


Something about Hell or Angels

by frankie_felony (dextrosinistral)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angels, Demons, F/M, Fallen Angels, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other, Supernatural Fusion Fic, Witches, demon hunter AU, fake advent fic?, or is it not!advent fic?, tawg is such an enabler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 30,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dextrosinistral/pseuds/frankie_felony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's threatening to release the Leviathan, sir."</p><p>"Damn it, we can't let that happen. Get me Puriel."</p><p>A moment and a flutter of wings later, the angel stood before Metatron. "You called, sir."</p><p>"We need a vessel."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After [tawg](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tawg) posted Harry Potter fusion advent fic, she challenged me to do the same -- one month of fic, with a new chapter each day.
> 
> This? This is my answer.
> 
> Mostly betaed by [wellworld](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/wellworld), who is such a darling enabler I can't even.

_"He's threatening to release the Leviathan, sir."_  
  
 _"Damn it, we can't let that happen. Get me Puriel."_  
  
 _A moment and a flutter of wings later, the angel stood before Metatron. "You called, sir."_  
  
 _"We need a vessel."_  
  
  
  
Phil Coulson had, in many ways, had a modest life. After high school, he had joined the Army, where he had a mildly impressive, if not by and large unremarkable, career. He retired into a government job that was marginally less dangerous than the military had been, but he had his own office and minions for the first time in his life. He couldn't complain, even if he had been astounded when he'd learned that all of the things that go 'bump' in the night were real.  
  
He'd learned the best ways to kill everything from buruburu to wendigoes—fire, usually, but not always—and how to keep himself from being possessed by a demon. He couldn't bring himself to sleep without his handgun in easy reach, but he had added a small bag of rock salt and an iron bar to his nightly arsenal.  
  
He'd gotten used to weird in the Army and then thrown the idea of normal out the window after being recruited to SHIELD. Director Fury and Assistant Director Hill were weird even for angels, though. They passed out information in infinitesimal amounts if it wasn't critically necessary for the hunt. Even what he did manage to get out of them frequently wasn't enough to complete the job, so the shelves in his office had slowly filled with journals of information about the things he had run down in his career.  
  
It was just like any other day after a hunt, with one exception: He had put a sigil on his door so no one would find or interrupt him. He had too much to get done in the next four hours, and he wasn't about to stay late again. He'd worked so many days and nights straight, he thought he might have forgotten what his cramped quarters four floors below looked like. He didn't expect the sigil to work forever; there were only so many places he could even go in a day. Someone would come knocking before the day was out.  
  
He didn't have to wait long for that knock. He got up to open his door, pulling down the sigil in case it was Fury or Hill on the other side. He only had theories about who Hill was, but he did know that he didn't want to cross her—whoever she was, she was someone close to Metatron. It wasn't either of them, which was a major relief. Instead, it was the Russian, the Black Widow. He couldn't ever remember her name, no matter how hard he tried.  
  
"Samael, what brings you to my office?" he asked, suspicious.  
  
She stepped in past him and closed the door. "For the thirty-seventh time, Agent Coulson, my name is Natasha Romanov," she said.  "Remember: There is a reason we still use our vessels' names. Not everyone in this building knows which of us is and which of us isn't. The only reason you do is because you have managed to advance within the organisation and somehow avoid becoming a vessel thus far."  
  
"I'm sorry, Agent Romanov, but what does that have to do with anything? I have a lot to get done today, and I haven't had anywhere near a proper night of sleep in six months. I'd like to see my bed for more than five minutes tonight."  
  
"Puriel requires your presence."  
  
"Is it more important than the hunt I'm supposed to be preparing for?"  
  
"Your hunt has been reassigned, Agent Coulson. This is a much more pressing issue."  
  
"What? You can't! I've been gathering information for weeks! This can't go to just anyone!" He knew he was about to start shouting like he'd finally lost it, so he made himself stop. "Who's taking my hunt?"  
  
Samael smiled then, all sharp teeth and intent. Phil could almost see the angel tucked away in the redhead. "That would be me. Put your studies in their place in your wall; I know exactly how to complete this task."  
  
He sighed then, giving up. "Fine. Why does Puriel need me?"  
  
"He needs to look at your soul. We need a man of your standard," she said. Before he could even think of a protest, Samael had already laid a hand on his arm and transported them both to the hallway just outside Director Fury's office. "Good luck, Phillip Coulson."  
  
"Thanks for nothing, Agent Ro—" he started, but she was gone before he could finish. "Damn it, why do they always do that?"  
  
The door of the office opened after Phil's first knock. "Agent Coulson."  
  
"Agent Sitwell. Director. Assistant Director," Phil greeted them all in turn. "What can I do for you today?"  
  
"You can drop the formalities," Hill said, closing the door. "One of ours has gone rogue. You're one of our best hunters. We need your help."  
  
"Why do I have a feeling that this isn't just about me bringing someone in? Samael said you need to look at my soul. Why?"  
  
Sitwell stepped forward. "We need to know if you are suitable."  
  
"If I'm suitable for what? I know you can't possess me without my consent." Phil kept his expression blank and his tone even, but it was hard to quell his rising fear. Had angels found a way to take vessels without the vessel's permission? He hadn't heard anything about it, but he didn't think he would have. Even if it had happened, he was certain that Metatron and Hill would have taken steps to prevent that from getting out.  
  
"We know who needs to be on this hunt, but he doesn't have a vessel," Hill said. She gave Fury a silencing look. "The two of you together would make a good team to accomplish our goal."  
  
"And what goal is that?"  
  
"We need you to hunt down Jehoel."  
  
"Jehoel? As in, your angel buddy who's supposed to destroy idolaters? That Jehoel? Isn't that a little bit above my pay grade? Last time I checked—which was today, for the record—I hunt evil supernatural beasts. Oh, and, one more thing, I don't have an angel-killing sword!"  
  
Director Fury stared at Phil for a long moment. The line between angel and man always blurred when that eye was turned on Phil. He wondered what was under the eye patch, if Metatron couldn't heal it or had chosen not to, and why. Metatron turned his attention after a moment and said, "Maria, if you will."  
  
They stepped aside, and even though they were whispering, Phil could make out some of what was said. He heard Hill argue that they couldn't arm him with an angel-killing sword if he wasn't a vessel. He couldn't tell what Metatron's response to that was or anything else that was said, but he caught one phrase: the only thing he needed to put the last piece into place to figure out exactly which angel possessed Agent Hill.  
  
He took those few moments to consider the offer. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him. Hell, if he made it through Ranger school, if he survived Metatron's fury, he was sure he could make it through just about anything—even an angel. He cleared his throat. "If you're done fighting over there, I'd like to say something."  
  
They all turned their attention back to him. "What is it?" Hill—Seraphiel, if Phil was right—asked.  
  
"I'll let you see if I'm suitable to become a vessel. But I won't make a decision until whatever angel you need a vessel for talks to me about it personally."  
  
Metatron nodded and gestured at the chair in the middle of the room. "Have a seat, Agent."  
  
Phil sighed softly and sat down, accepting the proffered leather strap as Puriel rolled his sleeve back to above his elbow. He wedged the strap in between his teeth and tried to prepare himself. It wasn't the first time he'd let someone touch his soul. Metatron had—twice. Surely Puriel couldn't be worse.  
  
He hadn't been quite so wrong in a long time. Pitiless was probably the most apt description of Puriel that Phil had ever heard. The examination of his soul felt like it went on for days, but it was seconds at the most.  
  
He had never felt so small, the lone man in a room of angels. Metatron, Seraphiel, and Puriel towered over him. In the moments that followed, Phil saw enough of the angels in their vessels to be appropriately terrified. He steeled himself and, after a few deep breaths, asked how he fared in this test.  
  
Puriel didn't answer Phil directly. He looked at Metatron and said, "His soul is apposite. I will find Raziel."  
  
Phil didn't have time to wonder who Raziel was before Puriel disappeared and he was dismissed back to his office. He sighed and went, hoping to finish up paperwork and get a decent night of sleep before he met this Raziel character. He didn't know how that meeting would go: it could be good, or it could be a disaster. He'd know after it happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil guessed it was probably too much to ask to get a reasonable amount of sleep after being subjected to a soul-testing. He thought he should have known better – he'd never slept well after Metatron touched his soul, and Puriel was somehow worse than the angel-in-chief. Why should he have expected anything different?  
  
Nevertheless, he had painted extra sigils around his quarters before crawling into bed. He wasn't going to let himself be disturbed, whether any of his angelic co-workers liked it or not.  
  
After a fitful night, he rolled out of bed, feeling like he hadn't slept at all. He made it all the way through his first cup of coffee before anything unusual happened, which was almost a miracle in itself.  
  
A faint whisper followed him down the hall to his office. He stopped and tilted his head, trying to ascertain its origin. It stopped briefly as he crossed the threshold into his office, but became clearer when he sat down at his desk to go through the files that had accumulated overnight.  
  
Phil stilled and listened, but a knock on the door interrupted the moment. He turned a glare towards the sound and said, "Come in." Dr. Banner peered around the door and then stepped inside, shutting it behind him.  
  
Phil softened. He was fond of Bruce, even if most of the rest of the Society avoided him. Bruce had been bitten by a Skinwalker on a hunt something like fifteen years ago. He kept himself in check since the incident, living mostly on raw meat, and had never bitten anyone. He had retired from hunting and instead spent his time researching and devising methods to take care of almost every monster-inflicted injury without causing the victim further harm, but many of the hunters were uncomfortable working closely with him.  
  
Fury trusted him, but the Director's blessing was clearly not enough for everyone. Phil thought that was a shame; he'd seen Bruce practically perform miracles in order to preserve the lives of some of the hunters who would just as soon put a silver bullet in his heart.  
  
Bruce smiled apologetically. "Am I interrupting something? I can come back later... "  
  
"No, not at all." Phil waved at the chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat. What can I do for you?"  
  
Bruce sat, almost nervous. "I heard your hunt was reassigned and you had a meeting upstairs. You're not leaving, are you?"  
  
"How does everyone know about what happens in my office almost before I do? No, I'm not leaving. My hunt was passed off to Agent Romanov. They need me for something bigger."  
  
"Oh. Good." Bruce twisted his fingers together for a moment. "I need you to test a new vessel for holy oil. The clay ones work well, but not everyone takes care of them as well as they should, and none of them are small enough to take on a flight. If you had to fly with it. I think I've found something that will work, but I can't take it upstairs until I know that it's feasible."  
  
"And you thought I might... well, I _do_ need holy oil for this new assignment, but I'm not sure a 3-ounce container is going to be quite enough."  
  
Bruce frowned. "You may need a lot of holy oil, and they pulled you from a pretty big hunt for something bigger – then it must be true." He leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "If I've read the signs right, whoever's in charge downstairs has something big planned – maybe an Apocalypse. Maybe worse. Unusual weather patterns, demonic activity... I've been watching everything to find the patterns, and they don't look good."  
  
"Bruce, you can't tell anyone. It's bad. Fury is calling on some major angelic favours." Phil rubbed his temples. He knew he couldn't tell Bruce everything, as much as he wanted to. Bruce was one of the few hunters Phil worked with who he actually thought of as a friend—more like a brother, if he was honest, but he wasn't sure he could tell anyone about his new mission.  
  
"Damn it. I was hoping to be wrong. They're not going to make you take an angel along, are they?"  
  
Phil laughed. "They want me to be a vessel. Apparently Raziel is on this, and Puriel says I'm the one. I don't even know who Raziel is. I've never seen him mentioned anywhere."  
  
"I want to tell you not to do it, but ultimately it's your decision. Be careful. Natasha hasn't been the same since Samael... " Bruce trailed off. His relationship with Agent Romanov had changed when she had agreed to become a vessel.  
  
Phil had only known Agent Romanov in passing before Samael, but he had heard a lot about her from Bruce. He had seen first-hand how her possession had affected his friend. It hadn't earned Bruce any favour within SHIELD.  
  
He shook off his thoughts and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. "I won't agree to anything that isn't perfectly clear. I may not even be the right vessel for the task. But whatever happens, I'm not going to leave you behind." He smiled, trying to ease the tension, and cleared space on his desk to make notes. "Do you know anything about Raziel? What should I expect?"  
  
Bruce settled back in his seat again and spread his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. "There's not a lot out there, honestly. Raziel is the Keeper of Secrets. He knows things that even Metatron may not know. I don't think anyone has heard anything from or about him in long enough that most records that mention him, if they existed in the first place, are gone."  
  
Phil looked up, frowning again. "So what you're saying is that I'm going into vessel negotiations with an angel that not only do I know nothing about, but no one else knows anything about, either?"  
  
"That's what it sounds like, yes." Bruce stood, then. "I have to get back to work, but I'll see if I have any more information that might be useful for you."  
  
"Thank you," Phil said. "I'll be happy to test your containers for holy oil."  
  
Bruce nodded and took his leave. Phil sat back in his chair, stared at the pile of folders on his desk, and waited to see if the whisper would come back again.


	3. Chapter 3

Fury looked up as the folder hit his desk. "Seraphiel, what's this?"  
  
"It's Coulson's file." Hill crossed her arms, staring across the desk at the Director. "I think it's worth another review before Raziel arrives."  
  
"Sit down." Fury's voice softened. "I've already reviewed his file."  
  
"Metatron... " she started. "I just want to know that you're making the right decision. Raziel doesn't exactly have a clean history."  
  
"I have taken Raziel's history into consideration. I know what I'm doing." He stood and walked around his desk to face Assistant Director Hill, who had still not taken a seat. "I know you're concerned. I'm only asking you to trust me on this."  
  
She stared up at him, defiant, for a few moments. "Metatron—Nick. I'm worried about this. What happens if Raziel decides to join Jehoel? We'll never win that battle."  
  
Fury took her hands and sighed softly. "I have a contingency plan. It works that Coulson wants to negotiate with Raziel. It might play out in our favour."  
  
"Why choose Coulson, though? I can think of at least half a dozen other hunters in the Society who would be much more willing to become a vessel."  
  
"I didn't choose Coulson—Puriel did, and I trust his judgement. I've touched Coulson's soul. I know he's the right man for the job, if he consents."  
  
Hill pulled away from Fury and walked over to the window, staring out. "I trust you, sir, and I still don't like it. What if he says no? What if he's not the right man for the job?"  
  
"Maria, please. Come and sit, and we'll talk about it. How can I ease your mind?"  
  
She stayed at the window. "Don't ask me to stand back while you make what could be a terrible decision."  
  
"I'm not asking you to stand back while I do anything. If he's not right, then he's not right, and we'll have to find another vessel – and Coulson will just have to go after Jehoel on his own until we find someone appropriate. And if he says no... Well, we'll have to come up with a new plan. But I don't think he's going to refuse." Fury walked across the room to stand behind Hill, staring at her reflection in the glass. "I need you to stand by me and support the decisions I make. You know I can't do all of this on my own."  
  
After a long moment of silence, Hill turned around and looked up at Fury. "We don't have time to come up with a new plan, sir. If Coulson is wrong or Raziel decides to go rogue, we have a war on our hands, and we can't afford it. We're running short of time as it is." She reached up to straighten Fury's jacket collar and left her hands there. "And we've relied too much on Coulson for contingency plans when things go wrong – we can't use his plans if something goes wrong this time. He knows them all inside-out; he'll know how to circumvent whatever we could try to do. What choice do we have but to trust that he'll do what needs to be done?"  
  
He shook his head. "We'll talk to Dr. Banner. He knows Coulson better than anyone else here; he'll be able to come up with a plan of action in the event that things don't work out as we hope they will. We have to have faith. Between whatever God's plan is and whatever Dr. Banner can help us with—with any luck, we'll be able to forestall or prevent a war."  
  
"Nobody has heard from God in millenia. I'm not sure He has a plan, or if He even _cares_ any more. This is on us now. If the solution is to find Raziel and trust that he'll do the right thing, then I will take that risk." Hill stepped back and headed for the door. "I'll get Dr. Banner for you. I'm not going to field this discussion – it's not my idea."  
  
"Thank you." Fury went back to his desk and took a seat. Hill was back after just a few minutes, Dr. Banner just behind her. She closed the door and ushered the Skinwalker towards the desk.  
  
Bruce looked between them both, a little suspicious. "You wanted to see me, sirs?"  
  
"Sit down, Doctor." Fury waved at one of the chairs and waited to continue until Bruce had done so. Hill crossed her arms and leaned against the door. "I have a few questions to ask you about Agent Coulson."  
  
"Okay... How can I help you?"  
  
"We need to know what the risk is of Coulson joining up with Jehoel."  
  
Bruce looked at Fury and waited a moment before answering. "He's been on our side his entire life. It's highly unlikely that he would suddenly decide to join up with the devil himself."  
  
"But if it happened?"  
  
"It would be wise to hope that it doesn't happen. Phil has contingency plans for his contingency plans. He's prepared for everything. It wouldn't surprise me if he's created a plan for what to do if he's swayed by evil, but if he turns, I can't say that his plan to contain himself will work." Bruce shrugged. "Look, sir, no disrespect intended, but why would you put Coulson on a mission if you're afraid that he's not going to complete it to your satisfaction?"  
  
"He's the only hunter I've got who could be Raziel's vessel. My other choice would have been Agent Romanov, but as you know, she's already spoken for. I don't have any other option readily available. Now, what I need from you is reassurance that we're making the right decision, putting him on this hunt."  
  
Bruce sat back and steepled his fingers. "I can't reassure you of anything. Not after you assured me that the incident wouldn't change my standing in the Society, and not after you assured me that nothing would change with Natasha. You'll have to excuse me if I'm a little less than trusting in your Father's plans, whatever they supposedly are. I'm not so sure it's the best choice for me."  
  
"Point taken, Doctor. In that case, who would you suggest accompanies him on this hunt?"  
  
"Did you have anyone specific in mind, sir?"  
  
Fury leaned forward and met Bruce's eyes. "Since you refuse to answer my questions here, I have an idea that you might be our best option to travel with Coulson. I expect you to report back to Sitwell daily until we have our reassurance."  
  
Bruce stood. "It's your call, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

Phil had locked himself in his office to study up on Jehoel and prepare for the hunt when he heard a whisper that sounded like his name. He looked up from the tome on his desk and listened for it again.  
  
There it was – as subtle as a light wind through the trees, but unmistakably calling him. He gathered his revolver and one of the miniature jars of holy oil that Bruce had brought him, and followed the whisper to the library.  
  
He didn't answer the whisper until it had grown louder and they were alone in the stacks. "Raziel?" he called into the darkness.  
  
The whispering stopped, but a burst of wind knocked an ancient-looking book from a high shelf. Phil caught it and eyed it suspiciously.  
  
"I'm not going to agree to become your vessel until we talk about what I expect from you." He casually turned a few pages of the book, frowning as he realised it was all Enochian. "I won't agree to this if all I'm going to do is be your bitch. I have specific needs in this relationship. I get control when I need it – even if this means you have to leave me – and you don't join Jehoel, no matter how tempting his offer may be."  
  
The pages fluttered as the not-breeze picked back up again. Phil waited and listened until he had been answered.  
  
"I'm doing this as a favour to Fury, not because I'm a devout man. I don't know that I believe your God—your Father, I suppose—exists. I know you all do because I spend so many hours of every day with your type, and Puriel says that my soul is suitable for you. Fury trusts him, and, sometimes against my better judgement, I trust Fury. But even with all of that in your favour, I'm not going to just sign up."  
  
More pages turned. Phil set the book on the floor and crouched beside it, watching the lettering go by.  
  
"Is this your book of secrets?" he asked suddenly, interrupting the small, mostly-still voice. He barrelled on without waiting for an answer. "I have to be able to communicate with you. I have to know what you do with my body. We do nothing that I don't agree to do, and you have to let me speak with Bruce as I am, not as you are."  
  
The air stirred around him, and Phil instinctively knew that Raziel was annoyed. He didn't care; he had his demands for a good reason, for his own protection, and to ensure that this hunt wouldn't end badly for everyone.  
  
They argued back and forth for a long while before they finally reached a tenuous agreement. Phil had managed to get most of his demands – the important ones that he wouldn't budge on one way or another – but Raziel flat-out refused to leave his vessel without extraordinary cause.  
  
Phil picked up the old book and stood, not sure where to look to direct his attention to the angel to vocalise his agreement. He settled for just standing in place and said, "It's time. Yes, Raziel, you may take me as your vessel per the guidelines we have just agreed upon – you have my consent."  
  
A light gathered above him and became almost too bright to behold before it enveloped Phil. He felt ice, then fire—and then nothing.  
  
  
He didn't remember going back to his office, but he woke to the smell of coffee and Bruce leaning over him. "Phil?" his best friend asked. "Are you okay?"  
  
Phil sat up and looked around, sensing that he wasn't alone. Everything was too focused, too sharp, and he could smell the beast in Bruce. When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice came out too gravelly, too wrong. "I'm fine. I—what time is it?"  
  
"It's 7:30 in the morning. You went down to the library last night and didn't come back until about three a.m. You smell wrong, like incense and too much ozone. What happened?"  
  
Phil took the cup of coffee from Bruce and sipped it, wincing as it burned his tongue – and blinking, surprised, as the burn abruptly vanished. "I had to go to the library. He was calling me. Where is the book? What happened to it?"  
  
"It's on your desk. Who was calling you? And where did you find that book, anyway? Ms. Lewis has never turned up anything in old Enochian, and you know she's fastidious about her manuscripts."  
  
Phil could see Darcy Lewis in his mind's eye, carefully cataloguing everything that was brought into the Society's library, and knew Bruce was right. He would have known if she had found anything like the book in his possession. "Raziel brought it," he said. His voice sounded far away, as though he was listening to himself from underwater. "I agreed to be his vessel. He's put out because I said I wouldn't leave you behind."  
  
Bruce laughed. "Even if you hadn't made that stipulation, you wouldn't be getting rid of me so easily. I've sort of been volunteered to join you on this hunt, despite my protests of retirement."  
  
"You let him put you back in the field for no reason?"  
  
Bruce shook his head. "I'm all right with one more hunt, if it's with you. I know you aren't going to kill me the minute I turn my back. And who knows? Maybe I'll be more helpful than you expect."  
  
"Bruce, I don't—"  
  
"Yes, you do, and it's okay. I know. I've been out of the field for fifteen years. You'd have to be an idiot to expect me to still perform like I'm at my prime. But I've learned some tricks since I've been doing mostly research, so I may come in handy."  
  
Phil finished the coffee, mentally arguing with Raziel that it didn't matter that angels don't have to eat – he wasn't about to give up coffee. Raziel held back until the cup was empty, and then neatly plucked control from Phil's hands. "Dr. Banner, there is no one in this building that Phil Coulson trusts more. He's been researching, and I have information you do not. The book on the desk is mine. You shouldn't know that, but I will grant you this courtesy."  
  
Bruce raised his eyebrows, and Phil wished he could take Raziel's words and fix them so they sounded more right. "Whatever you say, Raziel," the doctor finally answered. "When do we head out?"


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce looked around what stood for his lab as he put the last of what mattered into his bag. He'd had a long run in this room, but he was glad to leave it – even if he might never see it again. He turned to his door just as someone knocked on it. He pulled it open and smiled faintly. "Ph—Raziel," he corrected himself. "Are we ready to go?"  
  
"We need to stop by your library, and then we will leave."  
  
Bruce shook his head and started for the library. He couldn't get used to the idea of an angel wearing his friend as a meat suit – especially not one as potentially dangerous as Raziel. He wanted to get what they needed from the library and get on the road as soon as possible. If they were successful, he might get his friend back. He wondered if Fury volunteered him to accompany Phil so he could regain some of his standing in the Society.  
  
If that happened... if everyone stopped tip-toeing around him like he was going to turn them as soon as they blinked, he could move back into a traditional office.  Bruce shook the supposition off before it could continue. No amount of redemption or restitution could undo the damage he'd done; surely nothing would sway Samael to his side. Even if there was something, it wouldn't do to hope for it. He was a hunter, and chances to settle down were not a hunter's due. He would have better luck hunting until something finally killed him. It seemed like a better fate than researching his life away to avoid dealing with... well, everything.  
  
Darcy Lewis was waiting for Bruce and Raziel when they got to the library. She greeted them warmly as they arrived and headed them towards the stacks she had made of likely-relevant books and papers for their hunt. "Dr. Banner! Agent... Coulson? I've collected the documents you've requested. I would insist that you make notes here, but Director Fury has impressed upon me how important it is that you get going, so... I'll let you take them. Because I like you, not because he asked me to."  
  
Raziel nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Ms. Lewis."  
  
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times—call me Darcy! I'm not old enough to be 'Ms. Lewis' yet." She smiled, though, but turned her attention to Bruce and dropped her voice. "Is Agent Coulson okay? He seems a little weird today."  
  
Raziel had walked off down one of the aisles, looking at hand-written labels on shelves with an interest neither Bruce nor Darcy had seen anyone show in years. They peered after the angel, and Bruce lifted one shoulder. "It's kind of hard to explain," he finally answered. "I know that you know a lot of things you're not supposed to know and that you're going to try to find out one way or another after we leave. Trust me on this, Darcy: Don't go digging into it this time. The less you know, the less you find out—the better it will be for you."  
  
She frowned, the swell of her lips becoming more pronounced as she did. "I know that you just got sent back out in the field and Coulson had a meeting upstairs the other day. Either you've majorly pissed off somebody and are going out to your deaths, or there's something huge happening."  
  
"All I can tell you is that yes, we might be going to our deaths. But we do that every time we leave this building, don't we?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Next, you'll be arguing that you potentially face death by staying in the building. And you'll be right—you, especially. It's an argument that won't work on me. You going out there is way more serious than you staying here. What if the Alpha skinwalker finds you?"  
  
"If I'm going to die, I'd rather die out in the field trying to make the world a better place for humanity than become the victim of someone's mistrust." He tried to smile reassuringly, but Darcy did not look convinced.  
  
She just gave him a raised-eyebrows look and turned to head back to her desk. "You know how to reach me if you wind up in trouble." She dropped into her seat and threw a wink at Bruce. "I'll toss a few spells your way if you need me to save your asses."  
  
"Thanks, Darce, you're a dear." Bruce turned to see where Raziel disappeared off to in the stacks. "Hey, Coulson? Phil? We've got to go." He started down the row he'd seen the angel disappear into earlier.   
  
Raziel turned to face Bruce, and walked back to him. "Have you collected your materials?"  
  
"Uh, yeah." He held up the box that Darcy had packed. "Let's get out of here before anyone stops or delays us."  
  
"Dr. Banner, son of Coul! I hear you are embarking on a long journey!"  
  
Bruce sighed softly and turned around to face the figure taking up most of the doorway. Of course I shouldn't have opened my mouth. "Thor Odinson," he gritted out. "Yes, we are leaving, and we don't have much time."  
  
"I won't hold you up for long," the Viking god said. "I simply wanted to grant you well-wishes before you left. If it is your fate, may you die in battle so we will see each other at Valhalla's tables!" He squinted at Coulson as the man came out from the books. "Coulson, you look unwell. Are you sure you should be leaving today?"  
  
"I am fine," Raziel answered. "Dr. Banner, we must go. We appreciate your good tidings, Thor." He walked out of the library without waiting for a response, leaving Bruce to catch up to him halfway down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha stood before Sitwell's desk and stared impassively across it at him. "Puriel, are you certain that sending Dr. Banner with Raziel is wise? They may not be able to resist the temptations of evil."  
  
Sitwell just raised his eyebrows at her, amused. "And you would just love that, wouldn't you, Samael?" He leaned back in his chair. "One of our best hunters, an angel who knows at least as much as Metatron, and a hunter-turned-monster turning to the side of evil – that's your game, isn't it?"  
  
She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. "My vessel has... concerns. Specifically, about Dr. Banner accompanying Coulson for this."  
  
The tension in the room shifted as Sitwell unsuccessfully tried to hide his smirk. "You're worried about your boyfriend." He stood and stared down the other angel. "He'll be fine; both he and Coulson know what they're doing. You have an assignment. I suggest you do your job before I have to make you."  
  
Natasha turned on her heel and stalked out of the office. Sitwell waited until he was sure she was gone before he called Hill. "Seraphiel, we may have a situation. Yes, I'll come up." He hung up, and a moment later, he stood before both Maria Hill and Nick Fury.  
  
They regarded him with matching stares. "Report, Puriel. What's going on?"  
  
"I think that Samael is gathering... sympathy with Ms. Romanov. This could prove detrimental to the hunt _you_ just sent them on."  
  
Hill frowned. "And what, you think she's going to fail to complete her assignment and stop Dr. Banner and Coulson—Raziel—because Samael decides that she and the skinwalker can be together again? No, I think not. Your lack of faith in all three—four?—of them is... honestly kind of ironic."  
  
"No, I have no such presuppositions. However, if for any reason, Samael does decide that she doesn't want to risk Jehoel – or anyone else – swaying Dr. Banner to the other side, she may well intervene. All I suggest is that we keep a spare eye out."  
  
"You are welcome to keep a spare eye out, if you so choose, but we simply do not have the resources to pull someone aside to watch hunters and angels that you think might do something that you think they ought not do. Remember: You only know part of the story, Puriel. I advise you to refrain from asking questions about things that are above your pay grade. You are dismissed."  
  
Sitwell went back to his own office, frustrated. He couldn't consider put a tracking device on Natasha—she would find it, and it would ruin his hard-earned trust. He would have to figure out another method of tracking her, something that would be less detectible. He hated to place that much mistrust in one of his own, but he had seen Natasha Romanov's soul. He had known almost from the instant that he met her that she and Samael would make a deadly pair. The question was still, _just how deadly a team did they make?_  
  
There was no good way to ensure that she didn't interfere with stopping Jehoel unless... If he contacted Dr. Banner and Raziel, he would be able to find out if Samael showed up to intervene. He just had to hope that he didn't instigate further conflict. Even with as much oversight as the angels provided, the Society had a tenuous hold on peace. Disputes between hunters were more common than they should have been, and certain members had already begun grumbling amongst themselves about Dr. Banner joining Coulson to hunt down Jehoel and convince the angel to leave the Leviathan where they were.  
  
It had been hard enough to deal with some of the more inflexible hunters after Fury refused to put a bullet in Bruce after he was bitten. When the Viking gods had joined up, too, it had caused uproar. Nothing had quite settled back down since then. It had been hell, but Puriel had to concede that even hunters weren't as terrible as angels when it came to feuds.  
  
He couldn't admit that he had hoped when Darcy Lewis had joined the administrative ranks that the witch could prove useful for protecting their best not-entirely-human assets. Everyone seemed to get along with her, and she was wily enough to use that to maintain some semblance of peace, particularly around those she liked, without resorting to using her magic. He had a lot of respect for her, especially after she started reporting to him about the more underhanded activities of everyone in the building. She was his eyes and ears within the organisation.  
  
Ms. Lewis would be able to track the hunters from a distance and possibly prevent Samael from locating Dr. Banner for a time. Sitwell suddenly wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of that before he went to Metatron and Seraphiel with his concerns. He just hoped he still had a few favours left.


	7. Chapter 7

Phil was almost regretting agreeing to become Raziel's vessel. The angel refused to understand the all-too-human needs for food and socialisation, and Phil had to constantly remind him that they had to travel by car because they couldn't leave Bruce behind. He was bound to get through this without kicking the angel out of his body.  
  
Bruce slid into the seat next to him, holding two steaming cups and a sack of food. "I know you don't appreciate the value of a decent cup of coffee, but... who am I kidding? This crap isn't even remotely decent. Just take the coffee, man, Phil will appreciate it. You could stand to ease up on each other a little."  
  
Raziel took the proffered cup and inhaled, the stale aroma of the burnt beans soothing Phil. "He does appreciate it and says that you're right, it isn't even remotely decent. What's in the bag?"  
  
Bruce opened the bag and pulled out a couple of paper-wrapped items. "Hamburger for you; something a little... less-cooked for me." He tossed one of them to Raziel and started on his own lunch. Raziel just looked at the sandwich for a few minutes, and then back at Bruce. "Eat the damn burger, Raziel. It's been a long week, and we still haven't uncovered much. Unless you've got some brilliant ideas, we can't waste any more time arguing about whether or not you need to feed Phil."  
  
After a few moments Raziel started eating. Phil thanked him and politely tried not to think about Bruce digging into a small pile of raw beef not five feet away. Out of all the weird things he'd seen and done, his best friend eating raw ground meat with gusto was the one thing that still unsettled him. Raziel didn't even seem to notice, though.  
  
As soon as they were done, Bruce put the car in gear and they continued on their way. Their goal, at least for the time, was a shitty little bar somewhere in rural Mississippi. Phil had found information that led them there. It wasn't where Jehoel was – no, finding Jehoel at the first stop would have been far too easy.  
  
Bruce didn't know where Phil got his information or who his sources were. He thought it was probably better that he didn't ask. Ever since Phil had successfully argued to Fury that Bruce deserved more trust than to just be killed, Bruce had quietly looked the other way if his friend had done some... unorthodox negotiations. Phil always came through in the end. If he'd gotten a few monsters to join their ranks on the way, who had it harmed?  
  
Raziel disappeared from the passenger seat without warning. Bruce spared a glance at the now-empty space and shook his head. The angel wasn't supposed to take any side trips on this hunt because their objective was too important. But then, who could _really_ trust angels anyway?   
  
He didn't have too long to think about that, as Raziel appeared again a few minutes later. "What was that about?" Bruce asked irritably. "You weren't supposed to go anywhere."  
  
Raziel turned a passive stare at him. "Hadraniel had information for us."  
  
"I'm not even going to ask who exactly Hadraniel is or why you decided to ditch me for half an hour to go gossip with him. Or her, I guess. What's the news? Or, wait, let me guess. You can't tell me yet because we have to stick to whatever your plan is."  
  
"Something like that, yes," Raziel answered.  
  
Bruce debated for a moment before he decided that it wouldn't be worth it to point out that he was being sarcastic. He still wasn't convinced that angels even really understood the concept of it. They wouldn't be to their first stop for at least another day, but that wasn't enough time to even begin to touch on the nuances of human communication.   
  
Picking a fight wouldn't earn him any points, he reasoned. He had to put up with Raziel's oddities if they were to have any hope of successfully stopping Jehoel. He only hoped that whatever their plan was, it would work—and that Raziel would hold up his end of whatever bargain Phil made.  
  
"Bruce?"  
  
He glanced over at Phil, and then looked again. "Phil?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me... Where are we going?" The hunter looked around the car and frowned. "What day is it?"  
  
It took a moment for Bruce to stop himself from laughing. Phil always knew when it was, except, apparently, when he was hosting an angel. Bruce told him the date, shaking his head. "We're on our way to Clarksdale, MS, on the tip _you_ got. We should be there by tomorrow night."  
  
Phil nodded and stared back out the window. "Good. With any luck, we'll be able to get the information we need to move on."


	8. Chapter 8

They made it to Clarksdale without further incident. On the way, Phil explained that temporarily, he would be angel-free because they had to locate a demon. Once they had found the crossroads, Raziel would return. They wouldn't have much time unless they could figure out a way to lure the demon into a trap, and Phil didn't have any brilliant ideas for that.  
  
Bruce said, "Look, whoever this demon is, he's going to be interested in you because... well, you know, empty vessel. That's not going to help us much after Raziel comes back, but it's a start. We have to intend to make a deal, right? I'll take care of that part."  
  
It made sense – man turned into monster, just looking to get his life back. Phil said, "Honestly, and I apologise if this is heartless, you could mention losing Natasha... even though it's not strictly related to what happened."  
  
"That _is_ pretty heartless, Phil. But it would potentially make a better case for me. I'll figure out the trap – you just track down this demon."  
  
  
The bar was their last stop before they summoned the demon. The old building sat about fifty yards away from the crossroads, partially hidden by overgrown bushes and a few old trees. The air hung heavy with the smell of booze, sweat, and soil, and the last vestiges of daylight clung to the sky. It was stifling; Bruce wondered why they'd had to make this journey during the worst part of the Southern summer. He thought Jehoel must have chosen this time intentionally, just to make everyone's job more miserable.  
  
Phil had assured Bruce that this was the right place, that their demon would be there. Then he left the table where they sat, went to the toilet, and came back smelling of angel again. Bruce still wasn't sure how he could tell so easily the difference between his best friend and Raziel. Even the smallest details had become more noticeable over the course of the three-day drive. It was possible that that could have been Bruce's mind making things up after spending so much time in cramped quarters: The so-called "good guys" made him nervous. Angels wearing meat suits, pretending that their holy mission of destruction was somehow better, more worthy of praise and honour than the admittedly not-quite-natural order of monsters hunting humans—Bruce wasn't convinced they were right.  
  
He looked at the small box in his hands and considered what might happen if he bargained for Natasha to refuse Samael. She would never forgive him. He'd made a promise to her that he wouldn't let her choices as a hunter interfere with them, and he did intend to keep it, even if the idea of intervening was appealing. He wasn't sure that a hanger-on like the average crossroads demon would really be able to get rid of the other guy, though. It was a thought worth perusing, if this demon actually showed.  
  
  
Bruce caught the faint aroma of good bourbon with an undercurrent of sulphur and turned around to face its carrier. The man who now stood before him had an aura of extreme charisma and an impeccable goatee. Bruce wasn't sure which one he should comment on first, and settled for, "So, uh... "  
  
"You've come a long way, haven't you, Doctor? You knew you had to come to a crossroads, but you thought you might have the best luck at _the_ crossroads." The demon smiled, all charm. "Tell me your desires. Let's make a deal."  
  
Bruce took a few steps back. He knew he had to tread carefully, but he had to get the demon to take half a dozen steps forward or the trap would be useless. "I... I just want my life back," he said, marvelling at the crack in his voice. "This thing bit me, and now I have this craving for so much blood, can't you make it stop?" He hadn't expected it to feel so real in the moment; he'd forgotten to move.  
  
"Man turned into monster. That's a tall order. What's behind it?"  
  
He peered up at the demon's face. He couldn't see its eyes, but he was sure they were blacker than the shadows around them. "I lost everything I've worked towards! No one trusts me any more, some of my co-workers would like to see me gone... and my girlfriend left me." He hoped that the lie would ring true enough. He supposed that technically, Natasha hadn't left him, but Samael kept her far enough away that it certainly felt like she had. "I just want things to be normal again. Can you help me?"  
  
"Of course I can—for a price. You came to the right place. Some of the others, they'll try to shortchange you. Lucky for you, I'm more honest than that. All I ask is for your soul. You'll get your old life back and you'll even get a solid ten years to enjoy it again. It's a better offer than you'll get anywhere else. Trust me; I'm King of the Crossroads. I haven't had a disappointed client in over 600 years." Bruce imagined this self-proclaimed King winking behind those sunglasses. It seemed oddly fitting.  
  
"That... that sounds like something I can do." It wasn't hard to let some uncertainty slip into his tone. "Where do I sign?"  
  
The demon stepped closer, still smiling. "Oh, we seal our deals differently down here than you do in the big city. All it takes is a kiss."  
  
For a moment, that seemed like the simplest solution ever. Kissing a crossroads demon—even the King of them—wasn't the worst thing Bruce had ever considered doing. He nodded a little, watched the demon step closer, and had to remind himself that he wasn't actually going to go through with this deal.  
  
He almost felt it as the demon stepped into the trap. He stepped back and crossed his arms. "I don't think your deal is quite what I'm looking for, sorry. But maybe we can negotiate something that works for us both." He felt the air stir as Raziel appeared behind him, and stepped off to let the angel do the talking now.  
  
Raziel walked around the demon and cocked Phil's head thoughtfully. "Anthony Stark—King of the Crossroads now, is it? Quite an improvement from the last time we heard about you, and in such a short time. Tell me, how does a demon such as yourself rise to such heights a mere ten years after possessing the son of one of this country's finest weapons specialists? That scope of influence you garnered must have helped."  
  
Bruce just looked back and forth between the demon and the angel. He wondered what Raziel had been doing in his spare time before possessing Phil, but then decided that he probably didn't really want to know.  
  
Stark crossed his arms, his expression going flat. "What do you want, Raz? You know I can't be seen talking to you. Let me out of this trap and I won't take your... whatever this guy is to you, his soul stays intact."  
  
"I need _answers_ , Anthony, and I need them now. You're only the first stop of many, and if you cooperate, I will ensure that you are also the most painless one. We need your latest information on Jehoel and a list of who will know better than you do."  
  
"Mmm, no, I can't do that. You see, unlike your average crossroads demon, I know how to negotiate on the wrong side of a deal. I made you a good offer. I suggest you take it because it's not going to get any better than that."  
  
"Oh, I think not." Phil's mouth split into what might be considered a smile—or a snarl.  
  
Bruce thought that seeing an angel bare its teeth through its vessel was possibly more frightening than the realisation that he had nearly gone through with a deal in an attempt to save a relationship that may have been better left alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce stared back and forth between Stark and Raziel. It was an almost hilarious stand-off, demon caught by devil's trap and angel held back by Phil's sheer force of will. They had stopped debating back and forth about whether Raziel was going to let Stark out of the trap or not and were instead staring each other down like their will would win.  
  
If he was honest, Bruce was still stuck on "Raz". Why the hell was a demon on nickname basis with an angel?  
  
Finally he broke the silence. "Uh, guys? We have work to do. Mr. Stark, please give Raziel the information he needs. No one has to know you saw us. Raziel, chill out and let him out of the trap."  
  
"How do you know I won't either kill you or leave if you let me out?" Stark asked. He had finally taken off the sunglasses, for which Bruce was grateful. Trying to stare down someone whose eyes were hidden was unnerving.  
  
He stepped closer to the demon and smiled. "Because I just so happen to have one of the few weapons that will kill you, and that guy? He can keep you from leaving your meat suit. Your options if you don't cooperate aren't great, and I think you'd rather continue running your trade."  
  
Stark conceded that they were right. Bruce slipped his arms under the demon's and linked his hands at the back of its neck before smearing the edge of the circle in the earth. He put a little more pressure on Stark's neck, and the demon laughed. "Oh, I do love it when you people get all rough with me."  
  
"Don't make me snap your neck," Bruce muttered. "Now answer the questions."  
  
He patiently maintained his hold on Stark while Raziel asked questions. He only wished he could see the demon's face as the angel dismissed answers just as casually as one would talk about the weather. Stark was squirming a little in his arms. It was a little distracting, all of that mass of possessed man in his arms.  
  
He let the angel ask all the questions, not sure what his part was in this game. They got enough answers to satisfy Raziel and let the demon go. "Your secret is our secret, Anthony," Raziel said. "We never saw each other."  
  
Stark rolled his eyes and spread his hands. "Not since the Inquisition. Same arrangement we made in 1920. And every time we happen to be within twenty parasangs of each other. I haven't forgotten, Raz."  
  
"No one can help you if you do."  
  
"You think I don't know that. How cute. I still remember what you did to my meat suit that one time."  
  
Bruce cleared his throat, and both angel and demon looked at him. "It's kind of weird that you two are, like, buddies. And also we need to get going because there's a storm headed this way, and I'd really rather not be stuck on dirt roads when it hits."  
  
Raziel raised his hands and turned towards Bruce. Anthony Stark, apparent crossroads demon extraordinaire, took that moment to disappear. "We should be on our way. Staying much longer will raise suspicions, and secrecy is our best weapon."  
  
"Secrecy, really? I mean, I get that that's your thing, but rock salt and holy oil are a little more useful than keeping your mouth shut." He started back towards the car, ready to leave.  
  
Raziel shook his head. "Your weapons are useful, yes. But tell me, Doctor, how many times have you escaped injury or death by not revealing who you truly are?"  
  
Bruce stopped with his hand on the door. "Who I truly am? Are you serious? Raziel, _this_ is who I truly am. I'm a hunter. Ask Phil. He's known me longer than anyone else. The other guy? May be part of me, but _isn't me_. You should know better than to suggest that – you wouldn't say that your vessel is you, would you?"  
  
The angel got in the car before he said anything. "The capability to become a vessel to any given angel is found in the blood, Bruce. Phil was destined for this; of course he is a part of me. It is an honour to possess this body. If he would permit it, I would certainly say that he is me. Do not dismiss your other half so easily."  
  
"Is this some kind of honour reclamation thing? Because it sounds really nice, but I'm just not convinced." He couldn't bring himself to ask why Raziel was running with demons – not as long as the angel was in his best friend. "I'll make my mind up about you later. Where are we going now?"  
  
"Our next stop is New Orleans. We have much to do when we arrive, and little time in which to do it."  
  
Bruce put the car in gear, and the crossroads disappeared behind them soon.  
  
  
  
None of them noticed the shadows shift as they left. _Sir, the Keeper of Secrets is with the Skinwalker. What is the next step?_  
  
A taller figure appeared beside the shadow and surveyed the crossroads. _Nothing; let them continue unharmed yet. This will make my counter-hunt that much more interesting._


	10. Chapter 10

"Tony, Tony, Tony. What _have_ you done?"  
  
The demon resisted the urge to turn in place and follow the man circling around him. He settled for tracking him with his eyes. "I had to give them answers, Boss. The Skinwalker would have killed me, and I don't trust that the angel doesn't know how to get what he wants out of my dead body."  
  
"What exactly did he want to know? Don't leave anything out."  
  
"They asked for my most recent intel on you – and who would know more. And you know Raziel; he knows how to get anything out of anyone." Stark shifted. He didn't like not being able to see Jehoel. "I didn't know they were bringing out any big players to find you."  
  
Jehoel circled back around into Stark's line of sight and shook his head. "Of course they would bring out the big players to find me. Why would I make it easy for them?"  
  
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Stark crossed his arms and stepped towards Jehoel. "I can't forewarn everyone they're going after next."  
  
"Don't forewarn anyone," Jehoel said casually. "In fact, go back and offer Raziel and the skinwalker assistance. Do not, under any circumstances, let them know that I sent you, or you'll wish that the skinwalker _had_ killed you."  
  
Stark took a few steps closer, until he was toe-to-toe with the King of Hell. "I want your protection. I'm not going to do anything that will result in my untimely demise unless I have a reasonable guarantee from you that at least one someone on our side is doing their utmost to prevent said untimely demise. Do we have a deal?"  
  
Jehoel laughed, then. "I think we both know that I know better than to use that word in the midst of a negotiation."  
  
"Fine, I won't ask about a deal. Since I don't have a choice in the matter, I'll do it. Will you give me your protection?"  
  
There was a long stretch of silence in which Stark was almost sure that his request would be denied. Then Jehoel met his eyes and said, "I will send someone to watch after you. You're dismissed."  
  
  
As soon as Stark was gone, Jehoel turned and looked out over his dominion. He awaited the reunion with Raziel. He couldn't see ahead to tell, but he thought it might be bloody. He hoped that his decision to send the King of the Crossroads wasn't made rashly.  
  
Few had seen or heard from Raziel since the recording of history, and he didn't know how much the Keeper of Secrets had collected during that time. He could only trust that it wasn't a mistake to send out the one demon that had had semi-regular interactions with the angel. His instincts told him that he may come to regret that decision, but he hadn't reached his station by trusting his instincts.  
  
Metatron had not chosen wisely, partnering an angel few trusted with a hunter-turned-Skinwalker. The good doctor could be easily swayed, if Jehoel dealt his hand well. The beast's influence within him had not waned, no matter how much he had fought it. Giving him that push to embrace it would almost be too easy. Jehoel had to wonder if that would be met with disastrous results.  
  
As for Raziel... well, he would be more difficult. He had always been difficult. There was no reason to expect any sudden change, even if he did have a vessel for the first time in thousands of years. Jehoel had gotten word that the vessel was not a righteous man. That could attain some influence, but it would take observation to be certain.  
  
Anthony Stark was a fine choice to join those two. He had years of practise swaying people to their side with well-placed words and gestures. He would find their weaknesses and exploit them, and together they would bring the Society down from within.  
  
Until then, there was work to be done. Spies had to be sent out to track the motley group's progress. It wouldn't do for them to show up too early, but if he waited too long his narrow window of opportunity would close entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for a short chapter today! I've been travelling, and I didn't have as much time to write as I had hoped I might get.


	11. Chapter 11

Phil was glad that Raziel was occupying his body for the trip to New Orleans. He imagined that if he had to be there without the angel, he would be miserable. It was blistering hot, and the humidity had to have been off the charts. Bruce looked absolutely miserable, and Phil took quiet relief in the fact that he only distantly noticed _any_ of the weather.  
  
They had to find a specific vampire tour to take in order to locate their next mark for questioning. Raziel had no interest in actually taking the vampire tour, but Bruce gave him a sharp look and told him that he had no choice in the matter. "If you're going to possess a vessel and travel with a hunter, you have to look and act like a hunter. You can't just go where you please, when you please, the rest of us all be damned."  
  
Raziel relented, but warned Phil that they had to find answers soon. He didn't tell Phil what he knew about what might be to come. Phil had a sense that it was something serious, but he didn't want to consider the worst-case possibilities. He hadn't had a chance to plan for what could happen. Metatron hadn't given him that time before sending Puriel out after Raziel.  
  
There was also the question of where Raziel's loyalty truly lay. Metatron obviously had a measure of trust in the other angel, and that should have been enough for everyone. Bruce seemed to accept Raziel readily enough, but coming from a position of being mistrusted, it made sense. Phil felt almost guilty for wondering if the angel inside him had ulterior motives, if he was a turncoat. He thought Raziel's agreement to the arrangements they had discussed was tenuous at best -- and an outright lie, at worst. Angels were almost as bad as faeries, with the deception and wiggling ways around honest answers.  
  
Phil didn't trust Raziel any farther than he absolutely had to. He kept those opinions carefully to himself: There was no reason to sow discord without evidence. For the first time in his life, he couldn't trust his gut. At least, he couldn't trust it yet. If he uncovered proof that something else might be at play, he would go directly to Metatron with it. In the meantime, he would start making those plans for the worst-case scenarios.  
  
Bruce shook him out of his reverie. "Phil!" he hissed. "Raziel! Whichever one of you it is! We... may have a small issue."  
  
"What sort of issue?" Raziel asked.  
  
"We're not going to make it in time for that vampire tour. And that guy." He waved a hand towards an alcove where a figure stood in the shadows. "Your favourite demon, the one we talked to night before last. What the hell's he doing here now?" He put on a smile as they stepped aside at the alcove. "Mr. Stark, it's a surprise to see you."  
  
The demon looked around. "Let's get indoors. Strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to be here. And I could stand a drink. It's been a hell of a day."  
  
They ducked into a dimly-lit bar and took a table in the corner. "What brings you here, Anthony?" Raziel asked. "Did you leave something out when we spoke last?"  
  
"Look, the vampire that I was sending you to? He sort of... met an untimely end. You're not the only hunters in town, you know. But I kind of still owe you a favour, Raz, and I don't want that hanging over my head any longer than it already has. So I'll help you, at least as much as I can. There's going to come a point when I can't say anything, but I'll answer questions for you."  
  
Bruce and Phil exchanged looks. Raziel shook his head, and Bruce's stomach twisted.The hunt that Phil had been pulled from would have sent him to New Orleans. They weren't after the vampires there, but Samael would have... Natasha was here. He couldn't leave Phil and the demon. But if he found her, if he played his cards right, she might join them. At least then he'd have one angel on his team that he could sort of trust.  
  
It wasn't that he mistrusted Raziel, but he didn't quite trust the angel, either. He respected the situation they were both in, so different and yet so similar. For the simple fact that so few people stood behind him, he had chosen to stand behind this angel instead of waiting to make judgement. The whole business with Stark was making Bruce question that decision, though.  
  
"Then start answering, Anthony. You know more than you let on."


	12. Chapter 12

Bruce was wary of letting Anthony Stark, crossroads demon, join them on their mission to find Jehoel. He didn't trust the demon's sudden offer of assistance, the answers so readily given to questions, or how easily Raziel accepted everything that Stark told them. Somebody was working both sides of the game. The question was whether it was the angel or the demon.  
  
Raziel insisted that they paint sigils to prevent Stark from leaving his meat suit. Bruce had to admit that that earned the angel a few points... unless he made that demand at Phil's behest, which was entirely possible. There were too many questions he couldn't get answers for, and the answers he did manage to get only bred more questions. As soon as he could, he would get the answers he needed from Phil.  
  
As long as he had at least one person to really trust within the Society and access to all of the research and notes that Darcy Lewis controlled in the archive, he would stay. He would figure out a way to get the angel out of Natasha, and then he would take his leave. He still felt guilty about wanting things to be normal again. It was Nat's choice to become Samael, and he knew that he should respect her decision, but he couldn't help the wellspring of dislike that he had for the angel for distancing her from him so much.  
  
Bruce didn't have much love for angels anyway, even before Samael. Even more than anything else he'd ever come across, they creeped him out. They were hard to kill, and nobody actually knew anything about Heaven unless they were an angel. He would rather deal with anything but an angel, and somehow he'd found himself at the heart of an organisation run by more angels than anyone would be comfortable with in the same room.  
  
When he'd been approached to join the Society for Hunters' Intelligence, Education, Leadership and Development, it had sounded like a good idea. It had been much smaller then, and while Nick Fury was probably an angel even then, there weren't nearly as many in the lower ranks. Phil hadn't been there yet, but he had made a name for himself as a hunter already. Bruce had known that there were a few hunters dispersed in the ranks of the military, but he'd never seen a record like Phil's from someone whose supposed "real job" was so unremarkable.  
  
He had been grateful when Phil proved to be the proper decision to recruit into the Society. They had done several hunts together in Phil's early years and forged a friendship that had helped them both. They had stuck it out without angels for so long, even as they'd watched nearly all of the administrative ranks become vessels. When Phil had said yes to Raziel, it hurt a little.  
  
It still seemed odd that he'd wound up sharing a hotel room painted with sigils with his best friend, the angel who possessed him, and a demon. Raziel and Stark were planning something, but Bruce didn't attempt to eavesdrop on their conspiring. Sleep was far more important, since the angel couldn't drive and nobody was about to trust the demon to. He would get answers before they left.  
  
It seemed wise to start considering the ways one would take out an angel who had turned sides. Jehoel wasn't Lucifer; where the latter had been somewhat easy to contain in the end, the former had maintained allegiance with the heavenly hosts for eons. He knew most or all of the angels' methods of infiltrating and destroying their enemies, and he would use it against them if necessary.  
  
Bruce had to admit that he owed a bit to Samael. The angel maintained allegiance with Heaven, though it would have very nearly made more sense for her to ally with Jehoel. She slipped back and forth between 'good' and 'evil' easily enough that she'd tricked more than a few demons into revealing information that they would have been better off keeping to themselves. She had gotten them the leads on Jehoel and stepped aside for someone else to take the hunt so as not to arouse suspicion among anyone that she would turn traitor to the hunt.  
  
He wasn't supposed to contact her regarding their operation, but if he phrased everything in hypotheticals and metaphor, he could gather what knowledge he needed without either of them being reprimanded for it. He'd take any reason to call her. He kept telling himself that he would eventually even put forth the effort to rebuild what had been broken between them.  
  
Phil's and Stark's voices became distant as Bruce drifted towards sleep, considering his plans for the next few days. He felt guilty to hide his thoughts from Phil, but he reasoned that Raziel would be obligated to prevent him from divulging anything about the hunt to anyone else. He had no idea what Stark knew about Samael or if the demon would turn and report directly to Jehoel anything learned about her – and he felt no need to tell the demon anything.  
  
  
Sometime during the night, he woke with a start. Raziel and Stark were sprawled across the other bed and one of the chairs, respectively – not asleep, but not making plans, either. Nothing seemed to be out of place, but something wasn't quite right.  
  
He had a nagging feeling they were being watched.


	13. Chapter 13

Samael had seen Bruce and Phil in the company of that demon in New Orleans and made an executive decision to follow them from there. She filed report from her hunt and took off, maintaining just enough distance to avoid detection. They had left New Orleans in the wee hours of the morning and driven through the day until they arrived in a small town in what was assumedly the transition from 'central Texas' into 'west Texas'.  
  
She watched them enter a motel room, and Bruce and Phil drew sigils on the window, mirror, and walls to prevent the demon from vacating its host. Samael wondered if that was at Phil's encouragement, or if the angel had decided that on his own. Either way, it was a wise move.  
  
She listened in while Phil and the demon sorted plans and information as Bruce slept. She was surprised when neither of them seemed to notice her and wondered if that was a side-effect of the sigils they'd painted -- or if Phil and his angel had noticed but kept quiet about it.  
  
After a number of hours, both Phil and the demon settled out to feign sleep. Samael knew that it made people more comfortable. Nobody trusted someone who never seemed to sleep because it was abnormal. Appearing to be human had always provided a convenient 'in', especially for gathering information. Some of the angels still had trouble with their contrived humanity; those who had either never possessed a vessel or who had not in thousands of years were the most obvious.  
  
Samael had spent a lot of time observing Metatron after Natasha had consented to become a vessel. She wanted to blend in as much as possible, and no one rightly knew how long Metatron had possessed the man they now knew as Nick Fury. He was the clear choice to emulate. She passed well enough that even most of the hunters she saw on a semi-regular basis within the Society didn't know she was an angel.  
  
Phil had figured it out almost as soon as it happened, even before Bruce told him. But Phil had always been far more observant than anyone gave him credit for, and that made him the ideal man to send on this hunt. The selection of Bruce to join him was mystifying. What good would it do to send someone who hadn't been on a hunt in over fifteen years?  
  
She had her answer when Bruce sat up at about three in the morning and looked straight out the window in her direction. She was sure that he couldn't see her, but he seemed to clearly sense that someone was out there. He shook his head, turned over, and went back to sleep. Samael retreated. They were in largely unpopulated areas now; she would have to be careful if she wanted to keep following after them.  
  
Metatron didn't want her involved on this hunt, but he entrusted the fate of... well, the entire world and then some to Bruce and to Raziel. Neither was someone who had the full trust of the Society to back them up, and yet they were first picks. She had to find out why. Observation seemed to be the only way to know.  
  
She would have to hang back for a few days. If she was lucky, she would be able to determine their next destination before they left and take an alternate route so to avoid detection. If she could determine why they had joined up with the demon, it would be worth any lecture she received upon her return to the Society.  
  
Even if she found nothing, she would still have found something. Phil had brought both the witch and the Viking god to the Society, and they were valued and accepted members. If he and Bruce had convinced this demon to give up its allegiance to Jehoel, they could have gained a valuable ally. Metatron would be pleased with that news, and she would get a pass on stalking the hunters on their hunt even after being forbidden to do just that.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce woke up early. He still couldn't shake off the feeling that someone had been watching them. He pulled Raziel aside to voice his concerns and was surprised when Raziel just nodded once and said, "Yes, we were being observed. I do not think Anthony noticed it, and for a time I thought you wouldn't, either."  
  
"I'm not _that_ oblivious, Raziel. Why are we trusting Stark, anyway?"  
  
"I don't trust Anthony any more than you do." Raziel turned away for a moment, and when he turned back, Phil finished answering the question. "It's all about leverage, Bruce. The same way that we convinced Thor and Ms. Lewis that it would be in their best interests to join us, we may be able to convince this guy that he should shift allegiance. Alternatively, we can exorcise the demon and protect the man."  
  
"Phil, we cannot just arbitrarily perform an exorcism!" Bruce hissed. "Or have you forgotten how much paperwork we have to fill out for that?"  
  
"No, I remember, but this is a clear-cut case of probable cause. He showed up when we went to the crossroads to make a fake deal. He couldn't leave a devil's trap. He reacts poorly to holy water, and his eyes are black. Clearly a demon." Phil rolled his eyes, as if it might prove his point. "Now look, before we do this exorcism we have to make sure that Stark will actually live through it, so... we may need to rely on your ingenuity in the event that his heart stops or he's missing any important pieces. Darcy can help you put him back together once we get back to headquarters."  
  
"I really resent you volunteering me for things that are terrible ideas, Phil. I'll help you this time because you're obviously acting under the influence of angel. If you ask me for any more favours on this hunt I reserve the right to refuse them for any reason -- or, in fact, no reason at all. Deal?"  
  
"Fair enough," Phil agreed. "I've got to go. Raziel's the one who can get the details out of Stark, and if we're not careful he's going to catch on to our arrangement. I have no doubt that he's playing both sides of the field, but if he actually gets us to Jehoel, I don't particularly care."  
  
Bruce shook his head. "Whatever, man. I'll put some trust in you this time, but you've got to let me in on things."  
  
"I'll do what I can," Phil said. He slipped back into Raziel just as Stark returned to their hotel room.  
  
"Glad to see you two are up! Are we ready to get going?"  
  
Bruce shot Stark a withering look. "Yes, we're ready to go."  
  
Phil watched the back-and-forth between his best friend and the demon with feigned disinterest. Raziel had information to gather, and Phil didn't need to stand in the way of that. If Phil maintained a degree of distance in matters where Stark was directly involved, Raziel would be able to determine how much good intel they were getting.  
  
If they played their cards right, they could stop Jehoel, save Tony Stark, and return Bruce to something more closely resembling the standing he had once had. Phil knew that that wasn't of much importance to his friend, but it would certainly make his life easier if some of the other hunters eased their mistrust in him. Even if Bruce refused to accept a return to his former station, it would be sufficient to save one man and stop the King of Hell.  
  
Bruce drove, as always, and Stark gave directions. In between Stark's instructions, Raziel asked the demon questions to determine where, exactly, they were going. No one was particularly forthcoming with information, but they continued heading west, which narrowed the field of possibility.  
  
Phil had a feeling they were headed in the right direction. There were no clear signs yet, but his gut suggested that they would find Jehoel somewhere in the desert. He settled with that indication because he'd learned to trust his instincts early in the game, and so far, he'd rarely been proven wrong.  
  
He just hoped that this wouldn't become one of those times.


	15. Chapter 15

"You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"I wish I was, sir." Hill stood a few feet behind Fury, arms crossed. "She's following them. Puriel _told us_ this would happen, and what do you do? Ignore it, because surely the one angel in our ranks who has a history of taking particular joy out of men doing wrong can't possibly be doing something that might jeopardise everything we have at stake."  
  
"It may not be what we think it is." He turned to face her. "We can ask both Puriel and Samael for the answers we need."  
  
Hill just raised an eyebrow at him. "And we can then watch Samael weasel her way around what's actually happening. Sometimes I wonder what in Heaven possessed you to decide that allowing an angel and a hunter who both have a history of duplicity to join forces would be a good idea."  
  
"You have so little faith in man, Seraphiel. Why?"  
  
"They make the worst decisions," she answered, "and then when things inevitably go badly because they're all idiots, they want to blame God for it. But then when, by pure chance, they don't blow themselves up or, rarer still, they actually succeed, it's all on them. Why should I have faith in man? I revere them as Father's creations, but... they're sort of like those really ugly abstract sculptures that occasionally show up in museums. They're neat as a thing to look at but don't serve much actual purpose."  
  
"Aren't you being a little harsh? And trying to make me forget that you just insulted me?"  
  
"How am I doing that, Nick? You're amazing. It's not your fault that Metatron is... I probably shouldn't finish that sentence. It's not entirely nice. The point is, sort of, that it's been so long since you've been yourself that it's hardly an insult to you as a vessel if I say something about your angel."  
  
"Maria, if I dared say anything about Seraphiel to you, you'd chew me up one side and down the other. How is that even remotely fair?"  
  
Hill rolled her eyes and crossed the room. "You have no tact, and nobody understands who thought it was a good idea for Natasha Romanov to become Samael's vessel. We could have found a vessel for Azrael instead, and then we wouldn't have to worry that trying to stop the Apocalypse of all Apocalypses might blow up in our faces."  
  
They stared each other down for a few minutes before Fury leaned back and lifted his hands. "As you are well aware, Azrael was indisposed at the time. Samael was our back-up choice, and I would really have rather waited until Ms. Romanov had continued her family line, but that just wasn't an option. We have to put some trust in both of them. I think they would prefer to not see harm come to Dr. Banner. He may have to be leverage."  
  
"Natasha's not going to like that." She nudged him over and leaned on the desk beside him. "How would you react if we were in their places?"  
  
"You really think somebody would try to make that stupid-ass move?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who has anything they can hold over you, so no. Now why don't we call Jasper and Natasha so you can try to prove your point?"  
  
"What happens when I _do_ prove my point? Samael is with us, Maria. A few well-placed questions will reveal the truth."  
  
"If you're right, I'll do that thing that you like so much that I hate." She stood and kissed his cheek. "I'll need the night to prepare questions they can't faerie their way out of. Call them for the morning."  
  
"I'll make dinner reservations for seven o'clock tomorrow evening, then, because for once, I know I'm right."


	16. Chapter 16

Jehoel still watched the angel, the Skinwalker, and his demon heading in his direction. Whenever they arrived, things would get ugly. He could feel it. Tony was warming up to the Skinwalker more than either of them had anticipated.  
  
He needed a contingency plan, and fast. They had gained ground more quickly than the agreement. It had all happened before he'd had a chance to gather his forces again. There was no time to rally his constituents. He'd have to do some fast talking if he didn't want things to go south in no time flat.  
  
Tony seemed unsurprised to have been summoned. "You called, Boss?" he said brightly.  
  
"Do you have to lead them in such a direct route? Who, exactly, is this vessel that Raziel is possessing? And what's this thing with the Skinwalker?"  
  
"Yes, because if I'm not Raziel will either kill me or imprison me in a tiny box that he can take back to the Society to archive. I mean, I've heard that they can do that. That hunter? I don't know. He's some kind of super-talented hunter, I guess. Worked with Bruce a lot before he got bit. Not sure what his gig was in between then and Raziel. I'll have to try to find out more, but it's going to be risky. They're going to ask questions, and I'm already about to pass the point where I can hand-wave anything with 'idle curiosity'." The demon shrugged and walked around Jehoel to make himself a drink. "You remember that witch, Darcy Lewis? You know how she vanished off your radar and nobody could find anything out?"  
  
"We don't have time for this," Jehoel answered and turned slightly to keep an eye on Tony, "but enlighten me. What happened to her? I presume that Bruce is the Skinwalker."  
  
"Yeah, Bruce is the Skinwalker. Apparently he and Phil -- this guy, Raziel's vessel -- apparently they recruited her to their side. She works for the Society. It's no wonder they've gained some advantage in our... collective disagreement."  
  
"That begs the question of what they're offering people to join their ranks. No one is going to win this; I think we all know that. Metatron can't guarantee anyone survival, nor would he: It's not in his nature, nor is it in his vessel's."  
  
"Whatever it is, it can't be that great. If it was, Raz would have been with them a long time ago, not hiding out until he couldn't hide any more."  
  
Jehoel shook his head and tsked. "Distract them. Sow discord if you must. Bring me the answers you have failed to give me this time. Two fingers, if you will." He sat and watched Tony pour more bourbon, this time in two glasses. "Have a seat. We have more to discuss."  
  
Tony sat across from Jehoel and eyed the angel warily. "Don't fault me for cosying up to these guys. How else am I supposed to convince them to join us?"  
  
Jehoel raised an eyebrow and sipped his bourbon. "You and Raziel have a long, secret history. I have not forgotten. I chose you to cooperate with them because you know that angel better than anyone right now. Do not make me regret that decision."  
  
"I am all Team You, Boss. You have nothing to worry about."  
  
"I don't have to remind you where you will find yourself if it turns out that you have lied to me, do I?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure that the bullets you put in me the one time I accidentally misled you deliver the message loud and clear."  
  
"Good." Jehoel drained his glass and stood again. "You should go, before they start getting suspicious of your whereabouts. We'll discuss the Skinwalker later."  
  
"Just say the word, and I'm here." Tony set his empty glass down and vanished promptly.


	17. Chapter 17

Phil was starting to get used to the idea that this demon might be sort of on their side. They'd left Texas and driven into the empty deserts of New Mexico when Stark abruptly vanished from the car.  
  
Phil looked over at Bruce. "Was that supposed to happen?"  
  
"No... it wasn't. That wasn't part of the plan at all."  
  
"I thought not." Phil fell quiet for a few minutes. "What are we going to do about him?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Mr. Stark has a potentially-fatal gunshot wound. I don't think we can exorcise the demon and expect the man to survive unless we can work something akin to a miracle."  
  
"I know, Phil. But I won't know what I can do until I have access to all of the materials back in my lab at Society headquarters. Figure out a way to bring him there without giving out location to Jehoel, and I'll figure out how to make this miracle happen."  
  
"I've been planning out how to do that, Bruce. We need to know the best way to retain Jehoel, if necessary. I don't think we have hope of keeping the Leviathan restrained if we cannot get their handler in check." Phil closed his eyes for a moment, and when he spoke again, it was Raziel. "I may need to consult with Metatron in order to fully restore balance to the world."  
  
Bruce rolled his eyes and kept driving. "Go ask him, then. I can't just stop driving right now and wait on you. Find me later. And bring food when you come back, yeah? I'm starting to get hungry."  
  
"Very well." Raziel disappeared before Bruce could say anything else.  
  
He sighed into the now-empty car. "What is it with angels and never saying good-bye?"  
  
After another hour of driving, he pulled off the highway and into a deserted rest area. He parked in the one mildly-shaded area he saw and got out of the car. There was no point in going any further until either angel or demon -- and he didn't care which -- had returned.  
  
He felt a faint change in the air and turned to see Phil. "Did you remember lunch?"  
  
Phil set down the bag he had been carrying and unzipped it, tossing a foil-wrapped something to Bruce. "Decided to stop for a while?"  
  
"Yeah, there's not much else I can do by myself, and I figured I could start planning for our miracle." He unwrapped the foil and frowned down at its contents. "Is this... falafel?"  
  
"Ooh, no, that's supposed to be mine." Phil traded the falafel for a different foil-wrapped package and then pulled two glass bottles from the bag. He cracked them open and handed one to Bruce.  
  
Bruce gratefully accepted the proffered beer and took a long drink. "Thanks, man. How long has it been since we've done this?" He knocked shoulders and bottles with his best friend, squinting out into the distance.  
  
"Too long. We haven't been on a hunt together since... what, that chupacabra in '93?"  
  
"Yeah, that sounds about right." Bruce laughed. "That one was awful. I thought that we were going to die, for sure."  
  
"I'm pretty sure the only reason that we survived that hunt is because we make a good team."


	18. Chapter 18

Natasha stood before Fury, Hill, and Sitwell. "You called me here?"

"We have noticed that you've gone off-course, Samael. Please explain." Sitwell crossed his arms, watching her.

"I've already completed my assignment," she answered. "Therefore, since I have not been put on another hunt since I was in New Orleans, I am free to travel as I please."

"Why are you following Coulson and Dr. Banner?"

"Director," Natasha said, "I am not following Bruce. Or Coulson. I am simply observing them. A demon has joined them. In the event that they are swayed to do evil, you should be notified."

"I would rather send someone... less partial than you."

"No one else can tell you exactly where they are, or who they're with," she pointed out, and moved around to sit in one of the chairs in Hill's office. She rested her elbows on either arm of the chair and steepled her fingers, letting her angel do any more explaining. "Look, I know that none of you trust me very much. You're going to have to figure out how to, at least temporarily, because I'm not going to tell you where they're headed."

Hill telegraphed a step forward, but stopped when Fury set one hand on her shoulder. She shot him a look but didn't shake off the hand. "You're really going to try to play that card?"

"I am not trying any such thing." Natasha leaned back in the chair, giving the three angels in front of her an appraising look. "I am simply trying to assist you in realising that it wouldn't be the worst idea to let me continue my observation. We can call this an exercise in trust."

Fury and Hill gave each other sidelong looks and seemed to have a silent argument. "We will let you continue to observe. Do not interfere. Report back daily; we must remain apprised of the situation at all times. If we discover that you have made contact with Dr. Banner, or Coulson, or the demon that they are allegedly working with, you will be removed from the field and held until such a time as we can determine your penance."

"Surely I cannot be held accountable if they initiate contact?"

"We will make that concession if—and only if—the contact they initiate is unrelated to your observance."

"But you'll use anything they say to me as proof that they discovered that I am keeping tabs on them."

Hill sighed softly and shook her head. "Natasha, if Bruce calls and wants to talk to you—just to talk to you, we won't hold it against you."

"And you're so sure that isn't going to happen, aren't you?"

A long moment passed in silence, and Hill finally gestured for Fury and Sitwell to step out. They went, and she took the seat beside Natasha. "Nat, I don't want to hold anything against you. All I'm going to ask you to do is not be obvious about anything. It certainly isn't your fault if you're not quite inconspicuous enough."

Natasha leaned forward in the seat then, her forehead creasing. "What are you saying, Maria?"

"Your orders are to inconspicuously observe and to not initiate contact. If you happen to pass them by while visiting whatever town they just so happen to be in—well, there's no way anyone could predict that, right?"

"Are you trying to set me up for something?"

Hill lowered her voice conspiratorially. "No, I'm not. If Nick was out there like Bruce is, do you honestly think I'd listen to anyone who told me that I couldn't at least check in on him? I understand what you're doing. For obvious reasons, I can't officially approve of it, but... at least for now, you have my support."

"Your totally silent, laid by the wayside if circumstances call for it, support. That's encouraging. I thought we were friends, Maria, and you're telling me that you'll throw me under the bus for the job. You do know I'm going to have to find a way to get you back for that, right?" Nat smiled, letting the air clear between them. "Besides, aren't you and Fury not supposed to be a thing?"

"I can't disagree with that," Hill replied. "But you know if it comes to the worst, I will fight Nick tooth and claw to make sure you're both treated fairly. Seraphiel stands behind Metatron's decision because it's her job. I stand behind Fury's decisions as long as they're not stupid because that's my job." She stood up to go back around and sit at her desk. "This conversation never happened, all right?"

"What conversation? I'm still waiting for you to tell me when our next night out is supposed to be."

Maria smiled, then. "I'll let you know. I sort of had some suspicions about what you were doing, and for once, Nick disagreed. I might have promised him that if he was right, we would go to a nice dinner and I'd dress like an actual lady."

"Ouch. Good luck with that. I'll be taking my leave now." Natasha smiled too, then shook her head. She was gone by the time Maria had taken a seat.


	19. Chapter 19

Bruce startled out of his nap when Tony reappeared with them. "What's the news, Stark?"

"The big man downstairs is annoyed because I'm assisting you at all, and he's threatening me with worse than death, so... you know, nothing new, really."

"So Jehoel knows we're after him."

Tony laughed then, long and hard. "He's known from the outset that you're looking for him. He's just looking for ways to make it more difficult for you, now."

Bruce just nodded once, not sure what to make of that. He wouldn't have said that things had been exactly easy thus far, but at the same time, they hadn't been that difficult. He had to wonder what Jehoel had in store for them. They had expected the angel to find out that they were looking for him, but they had not expected it to happen as quickly as it had. He settled for taking the offered cup of coffee and waiting to find out what the demon had to share.

Phil's voice cut through the silence. "Jehoel sent you to work with us, didn't he? Or, well, to work against us."

Both Bruce and Tony looked over at Phil in that moment. "What?" Bruce asked.

"How could you possibly know that?" Tony frowned. "Did Raz tell you something?"

Phil shook his head, staring across the room at them both. "He has answered as I have made inquiries. Your showing up in New Orleans was far too convenient. We had seen you only hours before, and you directed us to a vampire nest I had previously let go because they were good for tourism. We arrived and no sooner than we discovered that the vampire we were looking for had been eliminated, you were just waiting for us."

"That doesn't prove anything!"

"You and Raziel have a colourful history together, don't you? He's looked the other way when you have brought harm to humanity -- I know about your involvement in the spread of the Plague -- and you've quietly passed off information to aid in our crusade to put the beasts of Hell back whence they came. You sell your secrets in exchange for his silence." Phil took a few steps and sat at the table across from Tony. "Your timing was far too convenient. I had concerns about your offer, and I have only managed to raise more questions. Now, if you please -- Jehoel sent you to lead us astray, did he not? Honesty would be very much appreciated."

"I can't answer that question." Tony crossed his arms. "If I were to tell you that he sent me, far worse things than death would happen to me -- worse even than I've been promised with our more recent development. So I cannot possibly tell you anything about who sent me to follow you, especially not if it was my boss. It wasn't exactly to led you astray, though. More to prevent you from being fully prepared for the possibility of battle. It was just pure, lucky chance that Marky--oh, excuse me, Marcus Augustus, most esteemed subject of actual vampire tour in Louisiana--got killed right before you showed up."

Bruce almost spit his coffee across the room. "Did he seriously insist that people call him Marcus Augustus?"

"It's much more respectable than Marky, as a name" Phil pointed out, deadpan. "Poor kid, couldn't escape that nickname even in undeath. Now please, Tony, continue your explanation."

"There's not really anything else to it. But since I didn't answer your question and can't be held accountable for anything you've just found out, now it's my turn to make a demand or two."

"You don't get to make any demands," Bruce interrupted. "We will, however, consider up to five requests."

Tony looked back and forth between the angel and the Skinwalker, and finally conceded. "Then I would like to request that you offer me an incentive to not betray you. Maybe you don't let me get killed in the crossfire."

Bruce and Phil exchanged an unreadable look. "Maybe you just wait and see what happens. I can appreciate that you want to play both sides of the field, but there's only so long that you can do that. You're going to have to make a choice... and depending on what you decide, you may not survive."

"Is that a risk you're willing to take?" Phil asked. "Don't rush into an answer. You have a few days to decide."


	20. Chapter 20

They stopped for the night in a small town off of the highway and found the one eatery that appeared to be open. Phil and Tony took up seats in a booth and perused the menus while Bruce went to get them each a drink.

He stopped behind one of the patrons, a woman with red hair. She glanced over as he ordered the three beers, and his mouth went dry. "Natasha? What are you doing here?"

"I've been hunting, Bruce," she answered, choosing her words carefully so as not to startle anyone who might be eavesdropping. "I decided to stop here for the night on the way back. What are you doing here?" She felt guilty for the lie, but it was the only way to avoid punishment.

"We're... also hunting." Bruce wanted to drop everything and talk with her for a while, but they had work to do. He meant to say, 'Well, I'll see you later,' but when he opened his mouth, he instead said, "Do you want to join us? For dinner, I mean."

She shook her head. "I'm really not supposed to... Fury will get upset. He thinks I'm going to ruin your judgement or something, so he has told me in no uncertain terms that I may not initiate contact with you. I have a feeling that dinner might also be disallowed."

"You're not initiating contact, Nat." His hand twitched with the effort to restrain himself from reaching up to tuck loose hair back behind her ear. "And I insist. If anyone's going to get lectured, it'll be me."

She noticed the twitch and laid her hand on his other arm, her thumb brushing the bit of skin revealed in the cuff of his sleeve. He took a sharp breath, and she leaned forward. "If you insist, then I guess I can't decline." She offered him a knowing, private smile, as if he'd just suggested something other than dinner, and slid off the barstool. "Shall we?"

He nodded and collected the beers, and they walked back to the booth. Nat took the seat beside Phil, and Bruce the one beside Tony. Phil and Natasha bumped elbows in greeting, and Tony eyed Natasha until Bruce elbowed him. "Nat, this is Tony. He's helping us out. Tony, this is--"

"The girlfriend who left you," Tony interrupted. "Who else could she be? I remember what you said when you offered up that phony deal."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, studying Tony for a moment. "You're Anthony Stark." Her attention shifted to the Skinwalker. "Bruce! Why are you working with a crossroads demon? You know they only double-cross you in the end." A pause. "With all due respect, Mr. Stark."

"Tony, please. None taken, Ms... what was your name?"

"Rushman. Natalie," she said, slipping into the alias she'd most recently used.

"Well, Ms. Rushman. I am aware of the reputation that precedes me, but I assure you that this time I mean your friends no harm. Would I be correct in guessing that you're in the same line of work as these two?"

"More or less, yes." She glanced over Phil's shoulder at the menu. "You're going to get the bacon cheeseburger just to spite me, aren't you?"

Phil lifted one shoulder. "Well, I was going to get the chicken sandwich. But now that you've said it, the bacon cheeseburger does sound delicious."

Tony turned to Bruce, satisfied that the two across the table were not paying him any further attention. "Why did you let this one go, anyway? She's obviously still into you. What happened there?"

Bruce watched across the table as Samael and Raziel conversed. He knew it was the angels; he still wasn't sure how he could tell the difference between angel and vessel so easily. The changes were so subtle, but to Bruce they couldn't have been more obvious. Ever since Raziel had possessed Phil, his best friend smelled like too much ozone, but the wrongness of the difference magnified when Phil wasn't the one controlling his actions. And Natasha... he could just tell. She looked wrong: Her eyes were too blue, or her posture was too aggressive.

He shook off the thought and tried to answer Tony. "Nothing happened. We still... " he trailed off, not wanting to tell the demon everything. "Work got in the way. We had to be apart too much." A lie, but he couldn't very well explain that Samael had torn them apart and there was a part of him that hated the angel for it. Why would he tell this demon that there was another angel with them if he didn't have to?

"Then why don't you take tonight to make up for lost time?" Tony winked. "It can't be coincidence that you're both in the same place at the same time. Fate brought you here."

Across the table, Raziel and Samael traded looks. "Sam, he's trying to set you and Bruce up again," he murmured.

"You think I can't hear them talking, Raz?" she shot back under her breath.

Before anyone could say anything else, their waitress stopped by the table to take their order and gathered their menus. She smiled congenially at them all and said, "So I've got a bacon cheeseburger, bacon extra crispy, hold the onions; the breakfast special, eggs over easy, hash browns, no meat; the biggest, rarest steak we serve, no sides; and you're just going to drink. Do I have that right?" When they nodded, she continued. "Great. Again, my name is Lori, if you need anything."

Samael smiled. "Thanks. I think we're ready for another round, if you don't mind."

"Sure thing."

Their conversation didn't pick back up until after their food had arrived, but it was spare even then. Tony said nothing further about getting Natasha and Bruce alone later, but Bruce had a feeling that the demon was planning something.


	21. Chapter 21

Bruce swore at the lock before he finally got the motel room's door open. He stumbled inside and stared, shocked, at Natasha. "I can't believe they actually did this," he said. "I mean--it's not that I don't want to spend time with you, but we're on a schedule, and--I don't want to get you into any trouble you can't get out of. Or myself into any, I guess."

"I had a feeling that your new friend might do something like this," she said, turning back to her bag. "But there are two beds. Nothing has to happen. How would Stark ever know?"

He dropped his bag on the end of the bed nearest to him and walked around it. He stopped not far behind Natasha and finally allowed himself to reach out and touch her. "It's... I would like... I wouldn't be opposed to something... well, maybe, but I can't do this and... " His fingers curled around a lock of her hair, and he stopped himself. The unspoken, _not be with you_ , felt heavy on his lips, but he couldn't say it.

She turned and reached out to him; her fingers trailed down his neck to his collar. "You know I can't promise anything for our future," she murmured, "but right now... we have the room for the night."

Bruce smiled faintly. "We do, but it's been so long. I don't want to resent myself--or you--later for this."

Nat shook her head and took a step towards him. "Will you stop worrying so much about the future, for once in our lives? We don't even know how much of it we have left." She twisted her hand in his shirt to pull him closer and kissed him.

He poured the past ten years' worth of frustration into the kiss, everything he had wanted to say for so long but couldn't, and silently prayed that she understood what he meant. She pushed back just as much frustration, and he was suddenly glad that he wasn't alone in it. He felt her fingers creep into his hair and sighed against her lips.

She leaned into him a little more. He slid his fingers around the back of her neck, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. His tongue slid against hers, and she pulled them both a step closer to the bed. He pulled back enough to trail a few kisses down her neck. When he heard her sharp intake of breath, he stopped and took a step back. "Nat, I'm--I'm sorry, I can't--"

Natasha pressed one finger to his lips, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Bruce, don't do this to me--to us." She frowned and took his hands in hers. "I know things haven't been the same since I... since I became Samael's vessel. I don't know how to make this work, especially if you keep pulling away every time you think that my angel is going to step back from you. When that Skinwalker bit you, I stood beside you -- though nearly everyone else abandoned you. Why haven't you stayed with me?"

He looked at her, guilt flaring. "I'm so sorry, Nat. I wanted to, but... the angels don't trust me. With the hunts you were taking on, and as standoffish as Samael was, I made a guess towards the worst. I don't think your angel likes me very much, and I... " he trailed off, still not wanting to admit his bitterness.

"I know." Her voice was soft. "Sometimes I resent Samael for pulling us apart, too. But stop. I'll work something out. We'll work something out." She sat on the side of the bed and looked up at him. "I'm not going to leave as soon as you're asleep. I may have to get up before you're awake, but I swear to you that I will be here through the night."

Bruce moved closer to her and bent to kiss her again. "I'm sorry," he whispered just before his lips touched hers.

She leaned back, pulling him with her, and smacked his ass. "Stop apologising; you're ruining the mood."

He kissed her neck. "I would apologise, but you're already annoyed about that. So instead... " He rolled onto his back and looked up at her. "How did I ever get so lucky?"

She sat up. "What do you mean?" she asked, looking down at him. He ran his hands up her legs and under the hem of her shirt, still just looking. Her skin was warm under his fingers, and she wiggled under his touch. "Your hands are cold."

"Sometimes I can't figure out why you chose me."

She rolled her eyes and leaned down. "We'll never get anywhere else if I try to tell you, Bruce. So don't question it." She tilted her head and kissed his neck, unbuttoning his shirt as she did.

****

****

Natasha was gone when Bruce woke up in the morning, but there was a note on the pillow beside him. He read it as he got dressed. _Bruce, I'm sorry I had to leave before you woke, but we have to take measures to ensure none of us comes to any harm as a result of our meeting last night. Once you and Phil neutralise our current threat, we can talk about what the future holds for us. Yours with love, Natalia_

He smiled and tucked the note into his inside jacket pocket before he went to the room next door and knocked. "Phil! Let me in, man. What's our plan for the day?"

The door opened to reveal a scrawny blond man sitting at the table across from Phil. Phil looked up at Bruce and offered him a strained smile. "Bruce -- we got a surprise visitor last night."

"I can tell. What the hell happened?"


	22. Chapter 22

Raziel and Tony had spent most of the night working out the details of their plan. Phil had made mental notes of everything from where they were going to how willing he thought Tony might be to leave Jehoel and join their side. He was almost ready to discuss with Bruce on the best way to approach that situation and to find out how long it would take his best friend to figure out how to do something about that gunshot wound of Tony's.

He had gone over to the room where Bruce and Natasha were and was about to knock when he caught a glimpse of them in the room. They were asleep, curled up together, and Phil couldn't bring himself to interrupt that. He hadn't seen Bruce look so relaxed in a long time. Phil just hoped that maybe Bruce and Nat would work things out.

He had just gotten back to the room he was staying in with Tony and pulled out his key to let himself back in when he felt eyes on him. He turned around, and before him stood a slight man in what looked like part of a World War II-era Army uniform. He looked positively freaked out. "Can I... help you?" Phil asked warily.

"You're--you're an angel, aren't you? I need your help."

Phil closed his eyes and waited for Raziel to start answering questions. "Yes I am. Come inside; I will answer your questions." He opened the door and let the young man in, closing it behind them. "What's your name?"

"Steven Rogers, sir," the man answered. "Which angel are you?" He looked around the room and startled at the sight of Tony. "What is he?"

"My name is Raziel. That is Anthony. He's a demon," Raziel said. "Now, what's going on? Where did you come from, and what do you need?"

"The last thing I remember, it was a lull in the battle, so to speak. I saw someone I didn't know in the middle of our ranks and went to investigate. And then I was here. Where are we? What date is it?"

"We're in Socorro, New Mexico," Raziel said, and told him the date. "When was it where you were?"

Steven looked confused. "I was in _France_. It was mid-March, 1942. Why can I tell that you're an angel of the Lord?"

"Have you had any run-ins with others?"

"I saw... Qaphsiel, I think, once. He seemed very sad. He only told me his name and that he was an angel of the Lord, but he refused to answer any other question I had. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Qaphsiel doesn't get involved in the affairs of humanity. That's why he refused to speak further to you." Raziel shook his head. "I'm just gathering information. Tell me about the man you saw in your unit."

He wrote notes as Capt. Rogers told him as much he could remember. It took most of the night, since the soldier kept interrupting himself to ask questions -- _what's that sitting on the cabinet?_ and then, _what in the hell is a microwave oven?_ \-- and Phil just didn't feel up to trying to remember what they were to answer them later.

Tony went out and got them coffee before the sun was up, and they had resumed the question and answer when there came a knock at the door. "Phil! Let me in, man. What's the plan for today?" Tony opened it and stood back to let Bruce in. The Skinwalker looked confused to see an extra person in their midst.

Phil tried to offer him a smile. "Hey, Bruce. We got a surprise visitor last night."

"I can tell," Bruce said. "What the hell happened?" He sniffed the air. "Is there enough coffee for me, too?"

"Of course I got enough coffee for you," Tony told him. "You know, for a price. You tell me how last night went, and I'll give you this extra-large cup of coffee."

Bruce frowned. "Nothing happened, Tony. Give me the coffee. Phil, who's this guy?"

"Steve Rogers," the blond man said, standing up. "You must be Dr. Banner. Raziel mentioned you about three hours ago."

They stared each other down for a moment before Bruce nodded and sat at the foot of the bed closest to the table. "Call me Bruce. What's going on? I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here? Who are you?"

"I don't know why I'm here," Steve said. "I'm still trying to get my head around when 'here' is."

Bruce looked at Phil and Tony, hoping for an answer. "... what?"

Phil flipped back a few pages on the pad he was writing on and did a quick review. "Steve is a Captain in the US Army... from 1942. I have reason to believe that he had a run-in with Chronos and that is why he ended up here."

"Phil, can we really afford to bring another person in on this with us? I'm sorry, Cap, I'm sure you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. I know that Fury would love to meet you, too, but... it's just really bad timing."

"On the contrary," Raziel said, "Capt. Rogers was--is, my apologies--a very good strategist. As we approach confrontation with Jehoel, we will need any additional support we can find."

"You know we have to let Fury know about him before we bring him back."

Steve coughed, and the other three pairs of eyes in the room turned towards him. "I apologise for interrupting you, but... I'm sitting _right here_. If I can help you in any way, I will be happy to. There's nothing else I can do unless I can get back to 1942. It sounds like you have a lot of resources at your disposal. If I can assist you in achieving your goal, perhaps you can find a way to send me home." He gave Tony a sideways look and lowered his voice to something just above a whisper. "But please, don't leave me alone with Mr. Stark. I don't trust his motives."

"Nobody trusts his motives, Cap," Phil said. He seemed a little pink in the ears, and it wasn't until they had started for the car that Bruce realised who, exactly, Steve was.

He caught Phil's sleeve and pulled him back for a moment. "Look, I know that Capt. Rogers was your Army hero, but... he's just a kid. And he's not a hunter. We're going to have to teach him from scratch. Are you really ready for this?"

Phil shook his head. "He'll figure it out on his own. Bruce, he can see angels. He saw Tony's real face. I think he's a little more prepared than we give him credit for."


	23. Chapter 23

"Give me one good reason that we shouldn't put you in holding." Fury stared across the desk at Natasha. She seemed completely unperturbed, despite the circle of holy fire around her.

Maria twisted in her seat to look up at him. "Nick, she didn't initiate the contact with him. You agreed that she wouldn't be punished if Dr. Banner initiated the contact."

"Samael showing up in the same place at the same time as Banner and Raziel and putting herself in a place to be seen is not the same as Dr. Banner initiating contact."

"You made that deal, Maria."

Natasha rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "If you're done arguing about what to do with me, I suggest letting me go. I've fulfilled my end of our deal. I have continued to report back to you on Bruce and Phil."

Fury and Hill turned to look at her. Fury didn't look amused in the slightest. "So you have. And what have you brought back for us? So far, absolutely nothing of interest, aside from that demon they've picked up."

"I'll be happy to tell you, as soon as you let me out of this ring of fire. Don't expect me to tell you any sooner than that. I don't trust that you won't just get your answer and leave me trapped."

"Enough of the crap, Samael. What do you know?" Fury asked, but set the sprinkler to extinguish the flames.

"While I was... with Bruce last night, something very strange happened."

"We're talking about an angel, a demon, and a Skinwalker. Strange is kind of the norm there," Hill said. "What was strange enough to note?"

"A man who can see angels found Raziel." Natasha looked at them both impassively. She had not moved from the circle, though the fire had been put out.

"Just a man? Not an empty vessel?" Fury asked.

She shook her head. "He's just a man, out of his time. I believe that they will be bringing him with when they return, but his appearance warrants further observation of the group. I also have reason to suspect that the confrontation with Jehoel will occur within a few days' time. If they don't need back-up, they _will_ need someone to get the human to safety."

Hill laughed. "I know you want to get involved, Natasha, but this isn't your assignment. You are only to intervene in the event of Phil or Dr. Banner's incapacitation... or if they betray our cause. And you know your duty if that happens."

"Bruce isn't going to betray us." Natasha's voice was soft. She stepped out of the blackened circle. "I'll be on my way, then. I'll call with updates as I have them. Since contact has already been established, if I find it necessary, I will make contact with them again."

"That is permissible," Fury said. "Now go, before I change my mind and put you back in the circle of holy fire."

 

Natasha watched from the shadows as Raziel sat down with the man out of his time. They were too far away to hear, but she couldn't risk creeping closer without risking suspicion. She didn't want to spook the stranger, but she needed to know more about him.

She was about to step back when Raziel looked up and directly at her. She stilled and waited to see what he would do. He lifted one hand slightly and waved her over. The blond man looked up as she sat down and didn't even blink. He stuck out his hand over the table and said, "Steve Rogers."

She shook his hand and offered him a smile. "Natasha Romanov. And Samael. I hear you see us for what we are."

"I don't know that I would say it like that, ma'am, but yes. I can see your true forms. I understand that you're on a mission to find Jehoel and stop him from creating an apocalypse. How can I help you achieve this goal?"

Natasha and Phil exchanged looks. "Look, Steve--is it all right if I call you Steve?" When the younger man nodded, she continued. "This is all in Raziel's and Bruce's court. The best thing you or I could do is simply be prepared to assist, if it comes to that. We can help them along the way, but in the end, it all comes down to what these two can do."

Steve looked between the angels across the table from him and the two men who were making their way back to the table. "You've been given orders, haven't you, Ms. Romanov?"

"I have."

Steve nodded. "Then I will not lead you to defy them."

"Good," she replied, "because you'll have to accompany me to meet our superior as soon as this is over."


	24. Chapter 24

The weather had gotten increasingly darker as they made their way away from the semi-populated areas of New Mexico and into the emptiness of the desert. Bruce could almost smell the storm brewing; the sky was dark and heavy with the promise of rain.

Steve had split off into the car with Natasha, uncomfortable with sitting in such close proximity to Tony for as long as it might take to find Jehoel. He wasn't entirely comfortable travelling with Ms. Romanov, either, but he had the distinct impression that if she and Tony were put in the same car together, that one of them would not come out of it alive.

They stopped in front of a seemingly abandoned building that was a long way from anything. Phil turned and looked back at Tony. "You're sure this is where we need to be?"

"Cross my heart, hope to... I think I'm going to pass on finishing that part or else it might happen while we're here." Tony shrugged. "Look man, you gotta trust me. Put me in a devil's trap out here, and I'll be happy to wait for you. I can't go in there with you."

"I have a better idea," Natasha offered, coming around the back of the car to join them. "I'll take him back to holding. He'll remain in custody until such time as we can either safely exorcise the demon or determine that he must be put to death."

Phil considered the offer for a moment. It was a good one, but ultimately, he needed Natasha there with the rest of them. The alternative was for everyone to leave, and Phil would take on Jehoel alone. Neither prospect was particularly attractive, but he knew that Bruce was the only one who had the capability and willingness to preserve Tony's life.

"Nat, I can't send you back unless I go in alone... and that is not a risk that I am certain I'm ready to take," he said softly. "So unless one of us comes up with something better, we all must remain here."

Capt. Rogers cleared his throat. "Send them back," he said. "Ms. Romanov and Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark can all go back... where-ever it is you came from. I'll go in with you."

Everyone turned to look at Steve, surprised. "Are you sure?" Bruce asked. "We've hardly taught you anything about what we do."

Steve nodded. "I'm positive. I was going to die in battle before I wound up here. If it's what the Lord wishes, then still will I die in battle. I'm a soldier, not a civilian, Doctor. I may not have gone up against the likes of what you're going up against now, but I know my way around tough situations."

Phil could only stare, awed, at Steve. "You really _are_ a special man," he finally said. "I am honoured to know you at all."

Steve flushed and shook his head. "I'm just a guy. But this is important -- your future is at stake, if not the future of the world. It's the same as any other war, only it's angels and demons fighting it, not men, and the stakes are a lot higher than just proving a point. There has to be a reason I was pulled from the war I was in and thrown into this one."

 

Natasha disappeared, Tony in tow. Phil assumed that she had taken the demon directly to holding, leaving Bruce to take her car back to headquarters. Phil wished his friend luck and watched the car disappear on the horizon before turning to Steve. "Are you ready for this?"

Steve looked genuinely terrified for the first time since he'd approached Phil, but he squared his shoulders and resolutely took the jar of holy oil that was offered him. "No one is ever ready to go into battle. What I am ready to do is lay down my life, if necessary, to protect the people I lo--the people... everyone I left behind, I guess. I joined the Army to serve my country. It's an easy choice to stand beside you to serve God."

"That makes you a better person than most of us," Phil mused. He turned towards the old building, wishing he had even a tenth of the well of courage that Steve seemed to have. "How do you do it?"

Steve fell into step beside him as they approached the door. "I should be asking you that. Angelic vessel, you've got to be more devout than the rest of us, right?"

"Not necessarily," Phil said. "Natasha wasn't a believer at all, and I... guess my faith is sort of lapsed. But when God tells you to take up the fight, you do it. Your faith doesn't make you suitable to become a vessel; whatever does is innate. I wouldn't ask you to take on an angel, between us. I think you're better as you are in our fight against evil."

Steve nodded. "If it's all the same to you, I think I might like to go home if we make it through this, if that's at all possible."

Phil stopped with his hand on the door handle. "We'll see what we can do, Cap."

He pushed the door open, and they stared into the darkness.


	25. Chapter 25

Tony looked around his cell, and then cast a glance up through the window at his captors. "Nice digs," he called. "Interesting how you built the devil's trap into the floor and ceiling in three different ways just to make sure I can't get out."

Natasha appeared beside Fury and peered down at Tony. "He's not going to tell us anything until either Bruce or Raziel gets back. He doesn't like me too much, I'm afraid."

Fury looked at her. "So we have to wait until Dr. Banner gets here before we get anything? That's going to take a few days."

"Yes, Director," she answered. "The demon can wait. And we need to send someone to get Bruce's car. He's bringing mine back. Capt. Rogers might be able to drive, but he certainly doesn't have current identification, so we can't risk that."

Fury stepped away from the cell and headed for his office. "You'll have to coordinate with Hill or Sitwell to get that arranged. No one goes anywhere until we know the situation with Jehoel."

"Director, if Raziel went through with his plan, we're never going to know unless we get a body out there to tell us. You know how much holy oil he took, and you know how thoroughly Phil works to prevent _anyone_ from finding him before his work is finished." Natasha followed after Fury. "Let me go. I know where they are. I will bring Capt. Rogers back with me."

"Then go. I expect you back soon," Fury said and waved Natasha off. "Take someone with you. I won't have you running off on your own again just yet."

"Who is here that takes hunts? We've all been so busy, with the apocalypse closing in on us. Let me take Sitwell. He can pre-screen Rogers for you."

"No can do, Romanov." Fury gave her one last look. "The only person I can possibly spare is Darcy Lewis, and you'll have to convince her to leave her library."

"Of course, sir."

********  
  


Convincing Darcy to leave the library was not as difficult as Natasha had expected it to be, once the words "New Mexico" had left her lips. It seemed that New Mexico was where Phil had recruited Darcy into the Society, and she had not been back since then. That, along with the promise of a road trip, had tipped the scales from, "I'm not sure I should leave the library," to, "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready, Ms. Lewis."

"Seriously, Natasha? It's kind of cute how your boyfriend insists on calling me Ms. Lewis, but I'm way too young for that."

"I'm sorry, Darcy." Natasha laid one hand on Darcy's shoulder, and in an instant they were beside Bruce's car and the abandoned building. Natasha frowned at the building for a moment and stepped towards the door. "Captain Rogers?"

Steve stood up from the shadowed side of the car. "Ms. Romanov. They are negotiating. Raziel will bring him in when the time is right."


	26. Chapter 26

The door swung shut behind them, and it took Phil's eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dimness of the room they were in. A lone figure sat at the bar, leaning back against it and watching them with mirth in his eyes. Phil frowned and stepped forward, holding a hand up to Steve to hang back yet. He didn't see anyone else in the building, but that didn't mean they weren't there -- hiding behind the bar, waiting for them to let their guard down.

"Phillip J. Coulson," the man said. "Newly-minted vessel of Raziel. And--who's your friend? He's not the good Doctor I expected to see with you."

"Jehoel," Phil replied. He hadn't fully formed an idea of what to expect when he met the King of Hell himself, but it certainly wasn't the man sitting before him. For one thing, he had sort of expected Jehoel to sound more posh, not to have a vaguely Midwestern accent. He guessed that too many film and television portrayals of British devils had rubbed off on his expectations.

Jehoel held Phil's gaze for a moment, and then broke it to look him up and down. A slow smirk spread across his face, and he shifted to reach back for another glass from the bar. "Please, make yourself comfortable. You drink bourbon, don't you, Phil?"

Phil turned to Steve and lifted one shoulder. Steve waved him off, giving him the 'ok' sign, and Phil walked across the room to the bar. He took the proffered seat, glancing behind the bar to ensure no one was lying in wait. Jehoel poured a second glass under Phil's watchful eye and pushed it over to him.

Up close, the difference between expectation and reality was that much more pronounced. In Phil's mind's eye Jehoel had been most likely tall and almost gaunt, with eyes like coal and skin just this side of deathly pale, and sharp-tongued. The man sitting beside him was next to none of those things -- tall, but not as tall as Phil had expected, and well-built, like the vessel had been a manual labourer before his possession. Piercing blue eyes and a dusting of freckles over lightly-tanned skin completed the mismatch.

Phil's mouth was suddenly dry. He fought the urge to drink all of the bourbon in one go. Nobody had told him that the King of Hell was _hot_.

"You clean up well, Raziel," Jehoel was saying. "Almost makes me wish we were on the same side."

"I'm not here to discuss whether or not I 'clean up well', Jehoel," Phil said warningly.

Jehoel held up a hand, in mock-surrender. "Please, call me Clint. We're in mixed company." He sipped his bourbon and winked. "Now, let's get down to business. Since this obviously isn't a social call, what can I do for you?"

Phil gave up on his restraint and drained his glass. "You can start by keeping the Leviathan in their cage... and then you can surrender yourself into custody of the Society for Hunters'--"

"I know what the Society is, Phil, and the answer is no. I can't do that."

"Which one, Clint?" Phil met Jehoel's eyes and stared, too stubborn to look away.

Clint laughed and refilled Phil's glass. "If you think I'm going to surrender everything I have to Metatron, you've got some serious reconsidering to do." He gave Phil another considering look before continuing. "I could possibly be convinced to not release the Leviathan... for the right price."

The faint sound of a scuffle carried over to Phil's ears. He tore his eyes away from Clint's long enough to see Steve slip out of his assailant's grasp, sidestep, and pin the demon over a table. Impressed, Phil turned his attention back to Clint. "And what would that price be?" He had to ask; he hadn't gotten so good at bringing in unlikely allies by not asking questions.

Clint slid off the bar stool with unreal grace and closed the distance between them. He crowded close into Phil's space and stared him down for a few minutes. "I know about you, Phil Coulson," he said softly. "You stole away my favourite witch, and now you've taken my left-hand man. I don't know _how_ you did it, but I don't like it. What I think I would like to see is you at work on the other side. You know the whole Heaven and Hell thing is just business. I know I can make you a better offer than whatever they've given you at the Society."

Phil swallowed hard. Clint was so _close_ , near enough that Phil couldn't move without touching him. Phil cursed inwardly: Somehow Clint knew the right buttons to push to make his offer appear more enticing than Phil's mission, and it was almost working. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head, but instead inhaled a heady mixture of magnolia and something sharp and cold, with a faint undercurrent of smoke.

He used his free hand to try and push Clint back. Electricity seemed to rush up Phil's arm when his hand came into contact with the other man's bare arm, and judging by Clint's expression, the feeling -- and surprise -- was mutual. He jerked his hand back and tried not to think about what had just happened. "I didn't join the Society because I thought they could offer me something, and I'm not going to betray them just because you've offered me something better."

It took every ounce of will he had to stand up and move past the King of Hell without stopping to breathe in that scent again. He distanced himself from Clint by a few feet and started formulating a new plan. Clint turned and watched him go, his expression shifting to amused as he walked after Phil. "Oh, I think you want _very much_ what I have to offer."

"I don't have time for this." Phil said. "Steve, now!"

He felt, rather than saw, as Steve struck the match and dropped it onto the floor, igniting a circle of holy fire that trapped the two angels inside. Clint almost looked betrayed for a moment before he smoothed his features out. "That's a clever trick, but you see, now we're both trapped."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Then it's a good thing we can both wait for days." He turned and looked at Steve, who had by now drawn sigils on the windows to keep demons out. "Thank you, Captain. I'm sure someone will be here after you soon."

Steve nodded and slipped out the door, leaving Phil and Jehoel effectively cut off from the world.


	27. Chapter 27

Natasha had to admit that Darcy was a good travelling companion. The witch had a good sense of humour, more music than they could ever possibly need, and the perfect timing for moments of silence. After they stopped for dinner, Natasha took over driving again and left Darcy and Steve to talk or sleep.

Darcy and Steve sat at opposite ends of the back seat in awkward silence for several miles, until finally Darcy asked, "So... you're from 1942?"

The question was enough to break the ice, and they spent the next few hours in quiet conversation. After some time had passed, Natasha spared a glance back at them. Darcy was sprawled across the back seat, her head resting on Steve's shoulder, and they were both asleep. Nat smiled faintly and drove on.

 

Steve seemed wary about going anywhere in Society headquarters, so Darcy had taken him to the library, where everything was old. She told him about the volumes they had collected, and that this was her domain. Every book, every note scrawled in the tiny margins of notebooks that had belonged to hunters past, she knew them all by heart.

"... Fury's not so bad once you get to know him. It's Sitwell you really have to look out for. He's kind of terrifying, but you'd never expect it." She pulled a few volumes from the stacks and set them on the table in the middle of the room. "You should read up on some of the beasties we most commonly run across. That way you're prepared in case they ask any questions."

"Ms. Lewis, I really appreciate what you're trying to do," Steve started, "but I came back here with you and Ms. Romanov because she said someone here might be able to send me home."

"I know," she replied. "I'm your witch. None of the angels do time travel if they can avoid it. It's not that they _can't_ , but from what I understand it's incredibly taxing... and you're not exactly their highest priority. I mean, no offence, but to them, you're just a guy. Coulson'll try to argue in your favour whenever he gets back, but he's going to lose. So the responsibility would fall on me. I've done a few spells to send people to a different time, but 70 years is a little out of my range. It would take more time and energy than I can safely handle, and I can't guarantee that I'd be able to get when to send you back to exactly right." She sat down across from him and twisted her hands together. "I'm sorry."

"So you're saying I'm stuck here. Now."

"Unless by some miracle Coulson pulls off his argument, yeah." Her eyes searched his face for a moment, and then she looked back down at her hands. "Look, Steve... you were going to die in battle anyway, it's in the history books. And I can't--even if I _could_ send you back to your time and get it right, I can't do it knowing that I'm sending you to your death. So could you at least consider joining up with us, if Fury makes you the offer? We could stand a few guys like you around this place."

Steve looked at her for a few minutes, considering. "I'll give it some thought, but I won't make any promises. I think I'll hold out for them letting me go home."

"Well, at least you're thinking about it. Still, go on and read up on these while you wait. The most important parts are marked with those little Post-It notes." She stood back up and opened one of the journals she had pulled down, indicating the small blue strip of paper on the page. "If you have any questions, just shout for me. I'll be somewhere around here." She turned and headed for her desk, surreptitiously casting a glance over her shoulder.

Steve watched Darcy walk away, sighed softly, and started reading. At least _some_ things about the future weren't so bad.

 

Steve had barely gotten through the first book Darcy had given him when he was called upstairs to meet with Fury. He wasn't expecting an office half filled with people even as he walked through the door. He dropped into the seat indicated for him and stared up at the angels who approached him. "Metatron and Seraphiel," he barely breathed their names. "Aren't you usually said to be in Heaven, recording everything that happens?"

Metatron -- Fury -- laughed and shook his head. "I got a hand cramp. Now let's get to business. Dr. Banner corroborates Ms. Romanov's story that you can see us in our true forms. How did you manage that, Captain? Were you a vessel?"

"No, sir. I'm just a man. If God has given me this ability, it has to be for a reason. I just don't know what that reason is yet." Steve stared up at Metatron and Seraphiel and willed himself to not look away. "I'm here to request to be sent home, if I may."

"What do we gain if we send you back?" Seraphiel asked. "No, sending you home is not a risk we can take. There is nothing to be gained by doing so."

"There is also nothing to be lost by sending me back," Steve pointed out. "I know that if I go back, my future only holds imminent death. But that's what happens when you're at war. You win some battles, you lose some battles, and you're probably going to go home in a pine box."

"But if you stay--"

"If I stay here, my future holds much of the same." He didn't bother mentioning that he wouldn't be a great deal of use for them until he had learned more about hunting and gotten acclimated to the differences between this future and his home in the past.

"Everyone dies, Captain," Seraphiel said. "There's nothing that will ever change that. All we're asking you to do is consider what you may have to offer the world if you stay here against what little time you have left if you go back."

"I will consider it, but that doesn't mean that I will agree to it. Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing," Metatron told him, and then lifted one hand to bring someone else forward.

Steve twisted in the seat to see who was joining them and nearly had an anxiety attack. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm down. The angel walking towards them was _terrifying_ , and Steve wondered what was in store for him.

"Puriel," Metatron said. "This is our new friend Captain Steve Rogers. He can see us and we don't know why. Now, Steve, will you consent to let Puriel examine you so we can determine our best course of action?"

Steve stared up at the angels standing in front of him and steeled himself for what this 'examination' might involve. "If it is God's will, then may it be so."

"Take this; you'll need it." Seraphiel wedged a strip of braided leather between Steve's teeth as soon as he started to ask what he would need. "Hold on tight."

Puriel rolled his sleeve back and reached into Steve's chest, and suddenly Steve understood why Seraphiel had told him he'd need the leather strip. He gasped for breath when Puriel stepped back. The angel turned to Metatron and Seraphiel, and for the first time, Steve saw his vessel, a mild-mannered-looking man in a suit. The difference was almost unnerving.

"He is only a man," Puriel said. "He was given the innate gift of seeing angels in their true forms. There is no need to detain him."

"De--detain me?" Steve asked, standing up. "You were going to, what, throw me in a cell somewhere and forget about me? I'm done here." He backed out of the office, not trusting the three angels who were gathered in front of the desk to let him go in peace.

Once he was sure he was clear, he took the stairs as quickly as he could all the way down to the library. If there was one person left in the building who might help him, it would be Ms. Lewis.


	28. Chapter 28

Bruce hadn't slept much in the three days since he'd gotten back to Society headquarters, his mind too focused on how to create a life-sustaining device that was small enough to fit in a person's chest. So far, he hadn't been able to come up with anything that would have a long enough lifespan. He had drawn and scrapped so many ideas, he wasn't sure if he'd started repeating himself or not.

He started thinking again about Tony, and realisation hit him. He left his office -- if it could even be called an office -- and headed for where they were holding the demon. "Hey, Tony!" he called down, hoping that the chamber wasn't sound-proofed.

The demon looked up and grinned. "If it isn't my favourite Skinwalker! Please tell me you're here to break me out, I can't stand these white walls for much longer."

"I can't break you out and you know it. But I need your help, and we might be able to get you out of there for it."

"You've got my attention," Tony said, crossing his arms. He leaned back to get a better view of Bruce. "Shoot."

"You--you were an engineer before you sold your soul, right?"

"Well, technically, _I_ didn't sell my soul, but yes, I'm an engineer. And a successful businessman. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Wait, what do you mean _you_ didn't sell your soul?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "That's a long story, and not one I'm going to tell here. Come on, engineering, what does it have to do with anything?"

Bruce shook his head and resolved to look further into that later. "I need your help. We need to miniaturise some things, and I'm not quite sure what the best way is to do that. You'll still have to stay within the confines of a devil's trap, but at least you can leave the cell you're in now?"

"So, for my help, I get to go be trapped somewhere else for a little while, and then what? Right back in here? I think not."

Bruce groaned in frustration and let his head smack into the glass in front of him. "You do this, and you get your life back. I can't guarantee much, but I'll make sure you don't wind up back here."

A few minutes passed in silence, and Bruce started to worry that his offer would be rejected. If he didn't get some help, he wasn't sure he could actually mitigate the damage already done to Tony's body... and demon or not, he kind of liked the guy. It would have been a shame to let him just die.

Then Tony's voice drifted up and broke the silence. "All right, I'm in. But I need some classic rock and a bottle of good bourbon."

Bruce couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice. "You got it, man."

****

Bruce watched closely as Tony put the finishing touches onto the core. They had been working through the past 72 hours. Bruce had taken a break about halfway through to eat, and Tony had long finished the bourbon, but neither of them had left Bruce's office once they set to work. Natasha had been by and looked in on them, and it had been at her insistence that Bruce had stopped and eaten, but they hadn't seen anyone else.

****

Tony told him about how the whole demon-possession thing came to happen. His godfather, Obadiah Stane, had made a bargain with Tony's soul in exchange for the option to take over the Stark companies when Tony's soul was claimed. Stane had died before that could happen, but the damage was done. When Tony had found out, he'd passed control of the company over to his personal assistant, Pepper Potts. Under her care, Stark Industries had grown more successful than anyone had thought possible.

And in that moment, Tony had given up everything he'd ever hoped to have.

****

Bruce exchanged looks with Tony as they set the core into the centre of the small electromagnet they had built. "Are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'm ever going to be," Tony replied. "So what exactly are you doing with this now?"

"I'm keeping your meat suit alive," Bruce said, forcefully guiding Tony back into the restraints he'd had to carefully prepare for this occasion. "I'm sorry to mislead you, but I can't let you continue to occupy Mr. Stark."

"What? That wasn't the deal. I said I'd come help you people out, nobody said anything about tearing me out of my meat suit!"

"You wouldn't have helped me if I'd told you everything," Bruce told him, carefully piercing a vein with a small needle. "Now, when you wake up, you'll be in Purgatory, and Tony will be alive. Don't fight it; you'll only lose."

He waited until he was sure the sedative would have taken effect had the demon not been occupying the vessel. He had to make incisions and create a space for the newly-built miniature electromagnet as he went, or Tony wouldn't survive the demon being ripped from his body.

Bruce took a deep breath and started the exorcism.


	29. Chapter 29

Phil stared across the circle at the man he'd been hunting. The firelight danced across Clint's skin, accenting the curvature of muscle and making the man look even more unreal than the shadows had. They had been waiting for three days, as far apart as they could be within the confines of the ring of holy fire. No one had shown up in search of them -- Phil had ensured that by asking Steve to paint the sigils everywhere.

Clint stared across the flames at the bottle of bourbon that sat on the bar. "You couldn't have even let me bring that with," he said for the fifth or sixth time. "We could have had drink and merriment while we wait for your cavalry to come."

"And what, let you use that to seduce me to evil? I think not." Phil turned and squinted, trying to see if anything was visible in between the boards over the windows.

He felt the chill emanating from Clint as the man appeared immediately behind him and shivered at the ghost of breath across his neck. "No, not at all," Clint murmured. He deliberately stood just close enough that Phil could feel his presence, but not close enough to actually touch. "You see, I don't need bourbon to seduce you, do I? I don't think I even need to _touch_ you."

"Why are you doing this?" Phil didn't turn around. He couldn't risk it.

"Oh, come on, Raziel, you know why I'm doing this. Your vessel's a lot better-looking than most of the ones that I've run across, and I'm sure you remember what we had a few eons back."

Phil resisted the urge to vocalise his questions about that. _Raziel, what's he talking about?_ Instead, he shook his head. "I mean, why are you threatening to destroy the world with the Leviathan?"

"Because I _can_ , Coulson," Jehoel said, and took a couple of steps back. Phil quietly released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Because Dad always gives His favourites the good things in life, and leaves the jobs like _holding the Leviathan back_ to those of us He doesn't love as well. Someone has to show Him that He can't play the 'I love all of My children equally' card while He's tossing some of us out like yesterday's shit. You, of all people, should be on my side, what with being Raz's vessel."

"What do you mean?" Phil finally turned back around and looked at Clint. "Why should Raziel be on your side?"

"Because he was the Heavenly scribe, but then he thought it would be prudent to teach some important things to man so that they would understand God better. And Dad? Well, He didn't like that very much. So He stripped Raz of his position and gave it to Metatron, and left Raz out in the cold. Come on, I know you have the Book of Secrets. It's got to tell how to set things right again. I mean, all of the old, old history is in there. Surely something like this has happened before."

Raziel answered before Phil could process everything he'd just heard. "You know I can't share the contents of the book with you, Jehoel. Not even Coulson can read it."

"And you still haven't forgiven me for taking up the fight."

Phil sighed. The exchange between the two angels didn't weaken his resolve to bring Jehoel in, but he felt more sympathy than he thought he should. He understood, in a way. Raziel obviously still held onto whatever had transpired between him and Jehoel, however long ago it was. And Jehoel? Well, Phil was pretty sure that, given the performance earlier, the King of Hell still had some affection for the Keeper of Secrets.

He looked at Clint again. "I don't know what happened between you, and I do think that you shouldn't have to have taken up a fight against God for... whatever the reasons may have been. But I can't stand aside and let you release the destruction of humanity."

"Have you _seen_ humanity? You know they're worse than anything any of the rest of us could have possibly released into the world. God should have put _them_ in a cage, but instead, He decided that they were better than the rest of us. Raziel, you can't tell me that you were just fine with bowing before _humans_ like we were told."

"No," Raziel had to admit. "I never was. Humans are Father's creations, and as such, they deserve our respect. But I do not believe that any one of us is higher than the rest."

"That's the point I'm trying to make." There was just enough truth in Jehoel's words that they could leave his lips. He had so much more to prove than the equality of the creations, but he would not reveal his full mission to anyone.

Clint moved towards Phil again, reaching out and smoothing the collar of his shirt. Phil could feel the chill, and the spark, through the thin material. He could hear parts of the building start to give, under the heat of the fire and the pounding of the wind outside, and he knew he had to think quickly. He reached for Clint and got a handful of hard muscle. The feeling of cool skin under his palm overrode the knowledge that he should keep his distance and the rational part of his brain that tole him that he had to get out of there _now_.

He leaned forward and kissed Clint, hoping that it would provide enough distraction that he could transport them both back to headquarters. Clint surged forward, pressing himself close, and licked his way into Phil's mouth. He tasted of frost, like a man left in the cold for far too long, and Phil felt the cold more deeply than he'd felt anything in a very long time.

Clint ground his hips against Phil's and dipped his head to leave a cold-burned trail down the newer vessel's neck. Phil let his head fall onto Clint's shoulder as they rutted against each other, still watching for a break in the circle. Clint's mouth found his again, and for a moment Phil wondered if freezing to death wouldn't be a bad way to go, if the frigidity he felt beginning to set in would give way to delirium, much like suffocation.

He struggled to maintain his stance, and everything threatened to go dark for a moment. He felt Clint's teeth sink into his neck, and his hips stuttered as orgasm rolled over them both. Phil's hold on Clint's arms tightened for a moment. A beam fell from the ceiling and obscured part of the circle, and he transported them into a holding cell before the King of Hell could recover.

Phil extricated himself from Clint and stepped back to trap him in the holy fire again. He turned away as Clint took a breath to speak. "Raziel! Phil. Are you really going to let them lock me away like Lucifer?" His voice was rough, tones of post-coital satisfaction and hopeless defeat combining to heartbreaking effect.

"I'm sorry, Clint," Phil murmured, "but I can't let you destroy everything I fight to protect."

****

He fled the room and went to his quarters, looking until he found an unsoiled pair of jeans. He cleaned himself up, pulled them on, and headed for Hill's office. He didn't bother to knock but just let himself in, turning away from the private moment he'd interrupted. "Sirs," he said. "I've got him."

It was Fury who spoke up first. "Good! We'll take over from here." He clapped Phil on the shoulder as he and Hill filed past. "Take the day off, Coulson. You've earned it."

Phil turned and watched them disappear around the corner. He had a sinking feeling that he might have made a decision with too much haste.


	30. Chapter 30

Darcy watched Steve curiously as he paced around the library. He had come jogging down the steps and through the doors about half an hour before, and had spent the time that had passed since walking around the room and muttering to himself.

She made two cups of coffee and set them at the table. "Steve, come and sit. Your pacing around the room is making me nervous."

He stopped pacing and took a seat at the table. "My apologies, Ms. Lewis."

"How many times do I have to say that I am _way_ too young to be Ms. Lewis?" She sat across from him, her hands wrapped around one of the cups. "That's not important. What's got you so worked up?"

"They were going to throw me in a cell and leave me to rot," he said finally, not looking at her.

"Only if you had turned out to be a demon." She reached over and laid one hand on his arm. "I know that Fury and Hill have weird ways of doing things. But don't leave because of them. Also, don't stay because of them, either. I'm not here because of them. I'm here because Coulson made me an offer I couldn't refuse. I don't stay because I have any loyalty to Fury or Hill, but because Bruce and Nat and Coulson are like family. They care about my well-being. So... if you decide to stay, make that decision because it's what's right, not because the head honchos make you an offer."

Steve looked up at her, smiling a little. "Thanks for the advice."

Darcy smiled and leaned across the table to kiss his cheek. "If you decide to stay, let me know. I have... there's something I'd like to do for you." He flushed a little, and she laughed. "I'm not talking about anything improper, Capt. Rogers."

********  
  


Natasha found Bruce standing outside his office, having an internal debate with himself at the door. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, stopping beside him.

He looked up. "Did we do the right thing?"

"What do you mean?" She leaned against him.

He sighed and draped one arm over her shoulders. "Tony, mostly. Should I have exorcised the demon? He's still asleep in there. What if I did something wrong and he doesn't wake up?" He turns to walk down the hall, still holding onto her. "And Phil. He's been different since he got back."

They walked down the hall, heading towards the detention area. "Tony is going to be fine. If you'd been possessed by a demon for a decade and sustained who knows what sorts of injuries, you'd sleep for a while after you'd been exorcised. He's got to heal. You know that. So don't worry about him for a few days. Try and get in contact with Ms. Potts. She may be interested to know that he's alive."

They fell silent as they rounded the corner and saw Phil looking down into the cell where they had put Jehoel. His expression was one of disinterest, but Bruce could read the tension in his posture. He didn't know what had happened while Phil and Jehoel were alone, and he'd been too busy worrying over the state of Tony to ask.

"He's been standing there for the past two days," Bruce murmured. "I think something happened."

Natasha shook her head, and directed him past where Phil stood. "Don't worry about it. He'll come to you in his own time. But we have things to talk about. Now that the crisis of the millenium has come to a screeching halt... it's time to discuss us. I've talked to Samael about it and gotten some concessions."

They had gotten all the way to Natasha's cramped quarters and sat on the edge of the bed before Bruce realised that they'd even left the detention area. "Yes. I... I want to be with you, Nat, but I can't--if Samael pulls you away from me again, I'm done. I've spent the last _decade_ of my life trying and failing to get over you."

"I won't. I know you don't have much trust in the words that come out of angels' mouths, but Samael gave word that we won't be pulled apart like we were before."

"Nat--"

The look she gave Bruce ordered him into silence. "To illustrate my dedication to this point, I've made an appointment for us to go do some paperwork."

Bruce sat up a little straighter. "You--what? Really?"

"And convinced Fury that it's time we get to cash in on vacation, so the next three weeks are _ours_."

"I'd like that." He gave it a moment of thought, but then frowned. "I need to get in touch with Ms. Potts before we leave."

"Yes, you do," Natasha agreed. "She might be interested to know that Tony is alive. If he wakes up. We don't leave for a few more days. You've got time to make sure he wakes up _and_ get in touch with Ms. Potts." She lifted one shoulder. "But don't back out on me on this."

 


	31. Chapter 31

"Where is Tony Stark?"

Everyone turned and stared after the woman who had come through the front doors of Society headquarters just a few minutes earlier. She blew past everyone who stepped up to stop her, refusing to stop and speak with anyone who couldn't give her information.

The elevator doors slid open and Darcy stepped out. "Ms. Potts! Hey, Pepper, come on! He's upstairs. He doesn't know you're coming, though."

The woman -- apparently Ms. Potts -- turned and smiled. "Darcy, it's good to see you again. How long has it been?"

"I've been here for four years, so probably six... " Darcy said as the elevator doors closed behind them. "How's the company doing? I've been sort of buried since I joined up here, so I haven't paid any attention. And how is Jane? Did she finally start scheduling meals into her workdays?"

Pepper laughed. "The company is the same as ever. Somehow we're still making it work. Since the demand for clean energy has risen so drastically, it's been a boon for us. And yes, Jane has started scheduling meals into her days. We still have to remind her to actually take them, but she is at least not living on instant soup."

"Good. I felt bad about leaving her, but my internship was over... and it was a little too much adventure for me."

They were still talking when they exited the elevator and turned the corner to get to Bruce's office. Bruce was waiting for them in the hall, still obviously nervous. He looked up as they came into his sight line. "Hey, Darcy. You must be Pepper Potts." He straightened up and offered Pepper a hand. "I'm Bruce. We, uh, talked on the phone the other day."

"Yes," Pepper said and shook his hand. "It's nice to put a face to a name. How is he?"

"He's stable. He just woke up. Do--you want to see him?"

"Yes, I think that's in order." Pepper smiled faintly. "He has some explaining to do."

Bruce shook his head faintly and opened the door. They all peered in at Tony, who appeared to be asleep, restrained in the bed. Bruce lifted a shoulder. "He keeps trying to pull the magnet out in his sleep. He hasn't really been awake enough yet to get what's happened."

"I am now, and I would just like to let you know that my nose has an itch that I haven't been able to scratch for _two hours_ , so would someone please come assist me?" Tony opened his eyes to look at them. "Pepper! What brings you here today? How can we help you?"

"Oh God, Tony. I can't believe you're alive. Where have you _been_? And I know, your soul got sold, but you could have at least called!"

"I was a little busy taking over the soul-selling business in Hell, sorry. Did someone bring lunch? I am starving."

Bruce sighed softly. "If I let you out of the restraints, you have to do two things for me. Don't rip out the magnet. And you're going to have to stay on a liquid diet for a couple of days until we know that your digestive system is up and running again."

"Yes, mother. I'm hurt. Why would I rip out the thing that's keeping me alive?"

"I've only known you as a demon, Stark," Bruce said. "But... if you decide to not go back into the nuclear weapons--no, wait, it's 'green energy' now, isn't it?--industry, maybe you could stick around. We could use somebody like you."

****

Darcy left Bruce and Pepper with Tony and went to hunt down Steve. It wasn't hard to do; he'd been spending most of his time in the library since they brought him back. She found him holed up in a corner after looking for several minutes.

"Hey, Steve," she said, dropping to the floor beside him. She hoped that he wouldn't be upset with her for what she had planned. She had finally gathered the necessary supplies to do the spellwork, but she had no way to remove the results of it.

He looked up and smiled a little. "Hi, Darcy."

"What are you reading today?"

He frowned at the journal in his hands and turned it over. "I'm not sure. Something about a small apocalypse-like event that occurred around the same time as the potato famine in Ireland. It seems that they're related events. Did you know that?"

"Steve, I've read almost everything in this library. So yes, I did know that. It's kind of cute that you're going through and reading my books and journals... but can I ask why?"

Steve closed the journal and turned to face Darcy. "I'm staying. It's not worth the fight to try to go home. Normally I wouldn't back down, but this isn't a fight that I walk away from with a bloody nose. No matter what I do, I'm going to still be here and now."

"Did Fury and Hill finally break you down?" Darcy got an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to--"

"They didn't convince me. You did."

"What?"

"Everything you told me about Coulson and Natasha and Dr. Banner... it convinced me. The four of you seem like honestly respectable people, and you've all managed to form a loose sort of family where you can rely on each other, even if you can't rely on anyone else. And even without asking me to stay, you've all treated me like I'm one of your own. That's important."

Darcy just watched him in silence for several minutes. "Wow. It's pretty amazing that you have that much faith in us." She reached into her bag. "Don't take me doing this the wrong way, all right? But I've got some spellwork to do. Honestly, you're never going to make it as a hunter, as tiny and asthmatic as you are. So: Can you trust me?"

"I think so, but am I allowed to ask what you're going to do?"

She stopped rooting around in her bag and looked at him for a few minutes. "Steve, you're... an honestly _good_ person. And what's on the outside should match what's on the inside. It's just not fair for you to have such a big heart and all anyone ever sees when they look at you is... a kid. I've heard what some of the hunters have said. They think you're going to die on your first hunt, size that you are."

He bristled. "I don't have to look like them to do what they do."

Darcy shook her head and kissed his cheek. "I know you don't. But it might help. All the reading in the world can't prepare you to fire an actual crossbow or slice the head off of a vampire. A little bit of extra muscle might, though."

He considered her point for several minutes before he finally nodded. "Okay. What do we need to do?"

She stood and offered him a hand. "Well, I already have a permanent circle set up in my office, so that'll be a good place to start."

****

They found Bruce, Pepper, and Tony in the dining hall later. Darcy dropped into the seat across from Bruce, and Steve sat beside her, a little uncomfortable.

"Weren't you... smaller?" Bruce asked. "Not to be awkward."

"... yes," Steve answered. "Darcy did a spell?"

Darcy shrugged. "He decided to stay, and there's no way anyone would ever believe he's a federal agent or anything if he's going around all scrawny. And it didn't seem right for someone with such a strong spirit for it to be stuck in a weak body. No offense, Steve, but I'm pretty sure my kitten could have beaten you at arm wrestling."

"None taken." Steve looked at them all. "I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to this. I'm--"

"Captain Steve Rogers," Pepper finished. "I'm familiar with you. Well, the you from history. I'm Pepper Potts. I run Tony's company. And this is the real Tony Stark."

"Nice to meet you, Cap," Tony said. "You look sort of familiar, but I don't remember you, so I'm guessing that we only met."

Steve nodded. "Yes, we met, but only shortly before I came here. Have any of you seen Coulson?"

Everyone exchanged wary looks before Bruce spoke up. "He's... I'm not sure it's the best idea for you to see him right now. He's a little... distracted since he brought Jehoel back. But I'll pass on a message, if you want."

Steve shook his head. "Just tell him, 'thank you'."


	32. Chapter 32

Phil turned at the sound of his name. Bruce came to a stop beside him and glanced down through the window beside them. He could see Fury and Hill talking to Jehoel, but he had no idea what they were saying.

"You've been watching them for days," Bruce said. "You've got to stop. Standing up here isn't going to accomplish anything."

"If I was needed for something else, they would call me," Phil answered. They both turned back to the window and stood in silence for several minutes. "I can't help myself," he admitted quietly. "Every time I close my eyes I see what he looked like when I put him there."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bruce asked.

"No." Phil looked at his friend for a moment. "What brought you down here?"

"Steve wanted to send his thanks. I'm not sure for what, but I didn't think he should see you staring forlornly at our current number-one enemy."

"I am not staring forlornly!"

Bruce looked at Phil for a long moment. "Uh. Yes, you are. Also, what's that on your neck?"

Phil's hand went up to his shirt collar. "I don't know. It's been like that since I got back."

Bruce leaned in and pulled the collar away to get a closer look. His fingers brushed Phil's neck, and his friend flinched. There was an irregularly-shaped, discoloured and blistered patch of skin stretching from the lower part of Phil's neck down towards his collarbone. "That's a nasty burn. What, did you get too close to the holy fire or something?" he asked.

Phil regarded Bruce oddly for a moment. "No, you know I always maintain enough distance to avoid accidentally burning myself."

"If that's not a burn, then what is it? Frostbite?"

He had meant it as a lighthearted comment, but Phil's expression turned weird. Bruce stepped back and let his hands fall. Some of the tension bled out of Phil's shoulders, but it still hung heavy in the air between them. His eyes shifted back towards Jehoel's cell and then back.

"I'm sorry, Phil, I meant--wait. Something happened, didn't it?"

Phil didn't answer for a few minutes. "I don't know. I couldn't tell if it was Raziel or if it was me, but now I can't stop thinking about--about Clint."

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Who's Clint?"

Phil waved a hand in the direction of the cell they'd been watching. "He's Jehoel's vessel."

"What did you do? No, you know what? I don't think I want to know. But, uh. Good luck figuring that one out."

Phil turned and offered Bruce a smile. "I'll do my best. Didn't you have a trip to take with Natasha? Why haven't you left yet?"

"I had to come check on _you_ ," Bruce said and lightly pushed Phil in the direction of the elevators. "Why don't you go down and see if they'll let you talk to him? That might help set you right."

"Or it'll confuse me more," Phil muttered as he went on his way.

He stopped outside the holding room where Jehoel was and debated the merits of going in or staying out. He was saved making a decision for himself when Fury turned and saw him through the observation window. "Coulson! Get in here!"

Phil sighed and did as he was told. "How can I help you?"

"Why don't you talk to Jehoel? See if you can get anything out of him." Fury's smile was something close to rapacious.

"Sir, are you sure that's the best idea? What are you going to do that I can't?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Phil," Hill said from somewhere to Phil's left. He couldn't tell where she was without turning his head, and he didn't want to put even part of his back to Fury if he didn't have to. "Good luck."

Phil walked forward, stopping about five feet away from the circle of holy fire. He watched Clint pace around the edge of the ring that trapped him until he looked up and saw Phil. "What do you want, Coulson?"

"Whatever information Fury is trying to get out of you," Phil replied. He was surprised when his voice came out much more confidently than he felt. "I don't know what they have planned for you, but it can't be good."

"There's nothing for you to know," Clint said. "You've already got me trapped, so you've secured the future of the world. I can't let the Leviathan out -- you're all safe now. And I've already told you why I was going to throw the world into uproar, so there's no point to ask about that, either."

"You can't tell me you didn't make a back-up plan," Phil said quietly.

"I let you get the drop on me. It isn't the right time to start this apocalypse. But don't worry." Clint turned away and walked back towards the centre of the circle. "I know you've been watching me. What need do I have for a contingency plan when I caught one of the Society's most valuable assets? What need do I have even to release the Leviathan?"

Phil reached up to cover the mark on his neck more. He didn't know where this conversation was going, but he didn't like the turn they had just taken. "I haven't been watching because I'm pining after you, Jehoel. I only want to ensure equitable treatment of anyone who joins us not of their own volition."

"Of course. Someone has to play the lawyer. And you couldn't even give me a seat."

"You could use that to escape. If you're not going to tell me anything, we're done here." Phil turned to head back towards Hill and Fury. He had to put his back to Clint before he said anything he would regret -- either for saying, or due to their present company.

"There were a few unintended side effects," Jehoel murmured, and Phil stopped. "He wasn't supposed to get attached."

Phil squared his shoulders and walked over to Hill and Fury. "He's not going to tell me. Whatever our next plan is, I suggest we take it."

Hill gave him a pitying look, but let Fury answer. "Jehoel must be contained, but there is no reason to keep his vessel imprisoned in this fashion."

"Which means what, exactly, sir?" Phil swallowed his impatience, knowing it wouldn't do him any good to get short.

"We're taking the angel out of the man, Coulson, and it's your job to make sure he doesn't run."

"Was it not enough for me to bring him in?"

"Take care of the vessel, Coulson," Fury told him, impatient. "I don't care how you do it."

****

Phil stayed well away from Clint's cell after Fury had exorcised Jehoel. He didn't want to see the wreck that had almost certainly been made of the man, and he didn't want to confront what had happened between them. Phil couldn't figure out if he wanted it to have been something real or if he wanted it to never be mentioned again.

Phil knew he couldn't avoid it forever. He monitored Clint from a distance, watching security feeds to ensure that the now-empty vessel was receiving meals and, if needed, medical attention. He maintained his distance for a couple of days, until he found a note on his desk from Fury that expressed the Director's displeasure.

He crumpled up the note and left it on his desk, irritated that he hadn't been able to get away with distantly watching for longer. He dodged looks and questions as he made his way to the detention level and, from there, to Clint's holding cell. He took a breath to steady himself and knocked twice on the door.

"What do you people want?" came a muffled voice.

Phil opened the door and looked inside. Clint sat on the bed, wrapped up in the thin blanket he'd been provided. He didn't move as Phil stepped in and leaned against the door.

"Clint, I'm--"

Clint looked up at him then, eyes burning. "I know who you are, Phil Coulson. You're the reason I'm here."

Phil started to argue that they would have caught up with him anyway, but something about Clint's expression made the words die on his lips. "Yes. Are you just going to glare at me, or can we talk?"

"What could you _possibly_ have to say to me? You tricked me into a circle of holy fire and then--you know what, never mind. I'm not interested in dealing with any more angels."

"I'm not--I may be Raziel's vessel, but I'm not here on his behalf." Phil sighed softly. "Fury asked me to do something about you."

"He said to 'do something' about me? I find that difficult to believe."

"His exact words were, 'Take care of the vessel,'" Phil snapped. "So maybe you should consider talking, since the other option is I put a bullet in you and salt and burn your bones."

"Go ahead and take me out. I've got nothing to lose." Clint pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Why are you keeping it so damn cold in here?"

Phil meant to say, _We're not keeping it cold in here_ , or, _If you give me the information we need, you may live_. Instead, when he opened his mouth, the words that came out were, "What if you did?"

The silence stretched between them for a few minutes. Clint opened his mouth and shut it again, and then shivered. "What?"

"You could start hunting." Phil frowned. "You'd get actual living space. It's not a great job, but somebody's got to do it. But we have to be careful about you. Demons get interested in empty vessels. I imagine that they'd be really interested in you, since they were all under Jehoel's thumb for ages."

"I would sooner salt and burn my bones."

"I'm sorry," Phil murmured. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I wasn't supposed to get so involved. What happened before I brought you here, it--"

"Was a mistake, sure. Go ahead, tell me how much you regret it, so I can stop thinking about how much I would do it all over again." Clint stood and walked across the cell to Phil, leaving the blanket behind. His skin looked burned, like the spot Phil had found on his own neck. "You can't convince me to join you. All I see in your face is betrayal. Keep your secrets, Angel of Mystery. You'll never get mine."

Phil reached out and touched Clint's face, and Clint jerked away, staring down at his now-unblemished arms. "I don't intend to reveal my secrets," Phil said, "or take any of yours. We could use someone like you on our side, though. What would it take to convince you?"

Clint looked at him again after a few minutes. "There is _nothing_ you could do to convince me to work under Metatron. If that means I spend the rest of my life in this cell, then I can live with that. You may think that I would be happy to join your side, but you couldn't be more wrong. When I said that the whole Heaven and Hell is just business, I meant it."

Phil sighed softly. "Then our business is done here."


End file.
